Blessed Victory
by Minishini
Summary: Nanashi Katsue was living a wonderfully comfortable life in Sereitei, setting broken limbs and putting sick Shinigami right. That is, until the day Captain Zaraki Kenpachi waltzed in to her clinic. Zaraki x OC
1. Chapter 1

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 1/?  
Rating: MA, it gets smutty, and I love it.  
Warnings: Coarse language, adult themes.  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC, because I don't really like Unohana and Ichigo is Orihime's or Rukia's in my world (I like the angst in it)!  
Disclaimer: Not mine. I wish. ;o; Nanashi Katsue is mine tho, fark off.  
A/N: Another idea that had been stewing around in my head. It amuses me to write Zaraki Kenpachi, and what could be more amusing than him developing the hots for someone?

* * *

It was a gloriously beautiful day in Sereitei, one that Nanashi Katsue had planned to enjoy in her own special way: with a bottle of saki and a cove of cherry blossom trees, far, far, far away from the Fourth Squad Headquarters. The sky was a clear, pristine blue that made her heart soar, and the breeze that tickled her cheeks made her want to wear her hair down for once. But, alas, it was not meant to be.

Instead, this wonderful spring day found her slaving away yet again in the hospital wing. The bloody Eleventh squad had been acting out again by voyaging into the real world to pick fights with any and every hollow they could find, and the casualties were mounting. Already today she had sewn up three or four of the lower ranking members, along with Captain Zaraki himself! She snorted as she thought of that giant of a man sitting on her exam table as he stared at her small hands stitching his chest back together. He had silently sat down on her table, grinning like the pretentious prick many of her squad members thought him as. My, how she had enjoyed watching that grin fade off his face as she harshly sewed him up!

Cackling to herself, Katsue finished taping up the ribcage of a low ranked officer from the Eleventh Squad. He was nothing special, she had decided long ago, and his wounds were hardly anything more than a bruising. Yet the man whined and moaned, claiming that his ribs were broken, that he was hemorrhaging—she had been shocked that his vocabulary included that word—and wouldn't keep quiet until she did something other than apply a liberal amount of the bruise balm she kept fully stocked in one of her cabinets to his purple skin. "Now get out," she smiled as the Shinigami jumped to his feet and stretched, his eyes wide with wonder.

"Ahh, Katsue-san, you are an angel!" he crooned and pulled his shihakusho back together, his eyes wide as he looked at Katsue with admiration. "Wonderful work, as always!"

"Shut up and get out," she laughed and pushed at his bony shoulders, aiming him towards the rice paper doors that lead to a large courtyard. She sighed as she eyed the group of Shinigami still waiting outside, either for her or for one of her other squad members to take them. "Next!" she called out and turned back towards her shelves of medical supplies, and the porcelain sink against one corner.

The rice paper door slid shut as she began washing her hands, and her exam table creaked as whoever came in sat unceremoniously down. "What's the problem?" she spoke towards her hands as she lathered up.

"The stitches came out," came a gruff reply that had Katsue frozen in place. Slowly, she looked up to the mirror that was placed over her little sink. She smiled at the man reflected in the mirror, a smug smile that told of a pleasurable, passive-aggressive attack to come. Zaraki Kenpachi, Captain of the Eleventh Squad, glared back at her reflection.

"Captain, I told you that you must take it easy until the wound knits together," she purred innocently and rinsed off her hands. It took her only a moment to find the hand towel she left nearby before she turned towards Zaraki. She was going to enjoy stabbing him with a needle for the second time in one day, she thought. That would teach him to ruin a perfect day like today by getting his entire squad beaten up.

He simply snorted in reply, his giant shoulders rising as he gave her a nonchalant shrug. "Ain't got time for it."

"Well, there really is no point in me stitching you up over and over if you won't give yourself time to heal," she teased and tugged aside a flap of his shihakusho, her eyes lighting on the row of angry red stitches that had indeed started to fall out from their tiny holes lining an even angrier wound marring Zaraki's chest. She felt a thrill of excitement at being so close to the huge captain, and acting so out of line. Most people, especially women, never felt comfortable around the huge oaf that sat like a little child on her exam table. She could hardly blame them; he was a humongous, intimidating man with a scary look about him. But damn, it was exhilarating. "I thought a big man like you would care less about stitches," she laughed.

"I don't," he growled and leaned forward, throwing her one of those scary looks that chased so many people away. She was still smiling though as she turned—she actually turned her back to him!—and went to the sterile sewing supplies she kept in a nearby drawer.

"I'm assuming you don't want me to numb the area again?" her voice was laughing as she spoke. Drawing on a pair of rubber gloves, she ignored the sounds of Zaraki stripping down to his waist behind her and threaded a needle. He grunted at her, and she stifled another laugh.

When she turned back to him, she took a moment to stare at the wide expanse of his tanned chest. He was nothing but thick muscles and taught skin, but her eyes kept being drawn in to the red cut that licked down through his right pectoral. She frowned. "You've been scratching at them," she accused him.

"They itch," he grunted again and watched her, a silent beast on her exam table, as she went to his side. He dwarfed her in size, she knew, as she felt his shadow fall over her as she bent to examine the wound closer. Grinning with a sick pleasure, she tore out the remaining stitches with the least amount of delicacy she could muster—and he didn't even flinch. Well damn it.

"You betray your reputation, Captain," she spoke absently as her smile faded and she went to work, her needle piercing his skin effortlessly. "I would think you could manage to ignore an itch if you can waltz around without a second thought to the pain this wound must be causing you." Her hands moved steadily, not even shaking as she slowly sewed his skin together.

Zaraki's chest rumbled with a growl. "And you don't live up to any of my expectations of the Fourth Squad," he rumbled in reply. She looked up at him for a moment to meet his harsh scowl looking down at her hands, and the needle that she was poking him with.

"I think I'm skilled enough to manage a row of stitches," she huffed.

"You shouldn't be able to do that," he huffed back.

She quirked a delicate eyebrow at him, and deliberately jabbed him a bit harsher than she would have ever considered. He didn't flinch like she hoped; he only moved his fierce black eyes to stare straight into her own eyes. "Even the lowest of the Fourth Squad can stitch up skin, Captain Zaraki," she spoke coolly. How dare he, she thought to herself, insulting her skills as a healer when he was still perched on her exam table.

He moved suddenly and before she could notice, his heavy hand snatched hers into a rough grip as he rose to his feet. His sheer size overwhelmed her all of a sudden, and she stepped back as she gaped up at him, a magnificent yellow aura pulsing around his frame as he loomed over her. Snarling, he grinned wolfishly down at her. "You shouldn't be able to do it," he growled, "because my reiatsu is too much for anyone lower than a Vice Captain to pierce my skin."

Eyes wide, Katsue cried out in alarm as his hand flattened hers against his broad chest, driving the needle she still held deep into his skin. He made a sound deep in his throat, somewhere between a growl and a purr, as the sharp metal disappeared into his chest. His hand dropped hers, and she snatched it back to her chest immediately. "Captain Zaraki!" she couldn't wrench her eyes away from the trickle of blood that welled up around the thread that disappeared into his chest.

"Call me Kenpachi," he laughed cruelly as he stepped forward. She didn't think, only reacted, as she took a hesitant step backwards. "How is it that someone like you ended up in the Fourth Squad? A reiatsu like yours…you should be in mine. Or do you not enjoy fighting?"

Katsue pulled herself together as his words sank in. Curling her upper lip in a silent snarl, she took another step back to put distance between herself and the captain. "I left the Eleventh Squad, before you wore the rank of Captain," she snapped.

"Oh? And why is that?" he wore that smug, aggressive grin of his as he kept advancing, his body driving her until she backed into a row of counters.

"None of your business!" she snapped.

"Scared, I bet," he smirked and kept stepping forward, his great bulk making the room suddenly seem smaller around her. Suddenly, he leaned forward, his mammoth palms flattening against the wall on either side of her head. He stared down at her, eyes flashing as he looked into the roiling depths of her stormy grey eyes. "No…not scared after all. Tired of fighting? Or was the constant death of your comrades gettin' you down?"

"Back off, Captain Zaraki," she snarled, her small hand falling onto the reassuring presence of her zanpakutou at her hip.

"Call me Kenpachi," he purred and leaned his face in to hers. His breath was warm on her face as he breathed, and she had the faint thought that he smelled like flowers. "What was it, then, that made you leave?"

With a fluid move, she drew her blade from its scabbard and pressed it against the thick cords of his neck. "Leave my clinic before I report you to Captain Unohana!"

"I bet your lover did something stupid and got himself killed," he drawled.

"I left," she snapped heatedly, "because I had avenged my family!" Her voice was borderline hysteric, she was ashamed to find, as she pressed her zanpakutou harder against his muscular throat. "The only reason I was there in the first place was to best avenge them, and once I gutted that hollow from tail to head, I left!"

"Why?" he pressed on, his weight leaning forward until a small bead of blood gathered on the pristine gray metal of her blade. "Why leave because you killed one hollow? Why leave when there are thousands more killin' off people who need to be avenged every day? You think someone else's family doesn't deserve to find peace?"

Growling, Katsue bared her teeth at him and braced her other hand on the hilt of her zanpakutou. She was trembling now, despite her effort to keep her blade pressed steadily to his throat. What was she going to do, slice his jugular? And be executed for attacking a captain?

"Three Shinigami died today alone," his voice grew softer, quieter, more intimidating. "And here you are, safe in Sereitei sewing up those that have the balls to put themselves in danger."

Her resolve waivered, her sword arm lowering ever so slightly as her stormy eyes glared at his. "I do not run and hide from no one or no thing, Zaraki Kenpachi," she snarled defiantly. "I fear no hollow, or death."

"Then why leave?"

Her voice trembled as she shouted into his face, her eyes clenching shut as she spoke:  
Because my mother wanted me to be a medic!" She swore as her head hung, her zanpakutou falling to her side. "Because…I have no reason to fight anymore."

Grinning, Zaraki pressed himself closer until their bodies touched. One strong hand gripped her wrist, before he gruffly slammed her arm against the counter behind her. Reflexively, she dropped her zanpakutou to the ground. "Then fight for the sake of fighting," he growled as her eyes darted angrily back to his face.

"That's not a reason—"

"Slap 'because' in front of it; it's definitely a reason."

Blushing, Katsue tried to yank her arm free from his tight grip. His hand didn't even budge, even as she tried again, this time throwing her whole weight into the movement. "What are you doing?" her breath left in a rush as his body pressed even closer.

"Feel free to stop me," he drawled before he crushed his lips to hers.

Fire seared Katsue's entire body as her eyes snapped wide, staring at the hard angles and planes of Zaraki's face and the smoothness of his closed eyes. It wasn't until his body shifted against hers and he repositioned his mouth that she groaned against his harsh lips, her body melting slowly against his. Her mind went on vacation as she momentarily forgot why she was so annoyed with the giant of a man when she felt a hard length press into her stomach through their layers of clothing. Dear gods, she swore as he pulled back, what the hell…

"That is," he purred, his eyes sparking with gold as his other hand grabbed her free wrist and he pinned them both above her head, "if you can."

Anger overwhelmed the momentary confusion in her body as she snarled like a feral cat at him. She tried to tug her hands free from his grasp, but he only leaned his weight against her limbs. "Get off, Zaraki! Even rape is low for you," she spat as he roared with laughter.

"I don't see you fighting back," his chuckle was deep as he stared down at her with that odd look in his eyes. Suddenly, and with a sense of foreboding unease, Katsue realized that he looked at her with the hungry look and lustful eyes of a predator that saw a tasty morsel. Or a man that saw something he liked. "I told you to feel free to stop me."

"If I could," she finished for him, her voice a low growl.

His laugh was loud as he moved one of his hands down the inside of her arm. His touch was incredibly soft and gentle, an element Katsue didn't expect from such a crude and rugged man. "And you're not even trying," he drawled as a shiver visibly ran through her body from his touch.

A loud gasp escaped her full lips as he angled his hips into hers. Her heart pounded in her chest as butterflies went to work in her stomach, making her nauseous. "No," she gasped, her eyes half lidded as her body reacted to his.

"'No?'" his voice was a soft growl in her ear, and Katsue's knees went weak. "'No' what, Katsue? 'No,' you're not fighting me?" she whimpered in his arms as she squirmed against the hardness of his body. "You wanna know why?" his own breath grew harsh in his chest as he felt her move against him, particularly the hard lump at his groin. "You want me," he breathed.

Gray eyes flashed open as he pulled back as coldly as he had first entered the room. His body left hers; her arms fell freely to her sides. He could feel the shocked anger well up in her body as he started pulling his shihakusho back on and straightening his haori. Her eyes never left his as she stewed, silent and angry.

After a few moments, her small hands curled into fists at her sides. "Get out," she snarled quietly.

"I'll be back later for you to finish," he drawled calmly as he ripped out the needle and the string of stitches she had left in his skin.

"Don't you ever come back here!" she screamed at him. He only smirked in reply, and turned coldly towards the door.

"Looks like you got your fight back," he laughed, and slid the rice paper door closed behind him.

* * *

As always, feedback is much loved and appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 2/?  
Rating: MA, it gets smutty, and I love it.  
Warnings: Coarse language, adult themes.  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC, because I don't really like Unohana and Ichigo is Orihime's or Rukia's in my world (I like the angst in it)!  
Disclaimer: Not mine. I wish. ;o; Nanashi Katsue is mine tho, fark off.  
A/N: I'm enjoying writing this way too much. Please excuse me of any typos and mistakes I may have, and most likely did, make. It's four in the morning, I'm tired, and I should be in bed. BUT THE BUG HATH BITTEN ME AND I MUST WRITE! This chapter is a lot longer than the first one (by like, 2,000 words). I'm sorry. ;o; But I like it so screw you all!!

* * *

Nanashi Katsue had a very vague idea why, as she had been cleaning up her exam room in preparation for closing, that she was suddenly summoned to her captain's office. A very vague idea that had her cheeks burning red in embarrassment as she stood at attention, her eyes strategically avoiding the calm depths of Captain Unohana's. She had been standing there a good minute or so, completely silent. And Captain Unohana met her silence. The woman didn't even move from her chair behind her desk, she didn't shuffle the papers that were piled neatly in front of her; she didn't even acknowledge Vice Captain Koutetsu as she cleared her throat.

Katsue shuffled her feet self-consciously. "You summoned me, Captain?" she spoke finally, reluctantly.

"It is rude not to look someone in the eye when conversing, Nanashi," Captain Unohana replied without a moment's hesitance. She waited, calm and silent until Katsue lifted her gray eyes to meet hers. "It has been brought to my attention," she gestured with a slender hand towards the two officers from the Eleventh Squad positioned against a wall behind Katsue, "that Captain Zaraki has received medical treatment from you twice today?"

Oh dear gods, Katsue's vague idea was spot on. Her mind raced as she cast a quick glance at the two officers. How much did they know? How much did Zaraki tell Captain Unohana? "Y-yes," she stammered, her hands folding together in front of her. She fought not to lift her thumb to her mouth so that she could gnaw on her nail. "Captain Zaraki visited me twice today, on both occasions to have a wound stitched." Did she know how that second visit turned out?

Captain Unohana nodded slowly. "And it is my understanding that he made it clear how rare it is for someone…in our squad to perform such a task?"

She swallowed loudly. "In a way, Captain."

Another nod. "Then you would understand, Nanashi, if I were to place you in a position where you would be better able to serve Captain Zaraki and his squad?" she lifted a delicate, perfectly-shaped eyebrow in question.

The floor fell out from underneath Katsue's feet as she considered the question her Captain had posed to her. She was silent, why was she silent? The captain would expect an immediate response, and she didn't know what to say— "What?" she said lamely.

"It is rare for a member of the Fourth Squad to be able to stitch up Captain Zaraki, due to his reiatsu level," Captain Unohana explained patiently. She was always so patient with everyone in her squad. "Because of that, he usually has to wait for me to find time in my schedule to pay him a visit. It is quite difficult, you can imagine, when I must be here to run the clinics and hospital. Considering that you are the only one with the medical training and knowledge to perform the duty, Captain Zaraki has brought it to my attention that it would be more convenient for us all if you were to act as his personal doctor."

Her heart stopped in her chest. She was staring stupidly, not talking, not even _thinking_.

"You will still be a member of the Fourth Squad, of course," Captain Unohana rushed to reassure her as Katsue's jaw slowly dropped open. "But I will have your clinic moved into a vacant building beside the Eleventh Squad Headquarters. Your duties will be the same as yours here—to care for the medical needs of those that come to you. And in specific, to insure that Captain Zaraki is properly cared for."

"I think she needs a chair," the bald officer from the Eleventh Squad snickered to his companion. "Looks like she's gonna faint."

Anger brought Katsue back out of her shocked stupor, and she shot a glare to the man even as she addressed her own captain. "Ma'am, I would like to respectfully decline your offer—"

"It is not an offer," Captain Unohana interrupted her, her voice still calm and polite. "It is an order, from Captain Zaraki, Commander Yamamoto, and me."

"I am sorry, ma'am, but I do not think that I will work out well in that position!" Katsue argued heatedly as she turned her full attention back onto her captain. Her face was red hot from anger at Zaraki and his buffoons, and maybe just a wee bit from embarrassment. That brute, she cursed to herself, he was trying to force her closer to him! "I do not think I will get along well in that nest of…of…cretins," she sneered and cast a sidelong look at the grinning Eleventh Squad officers.

"Nanashi!" Captain Unohana snapped as she stood up abruptly, her face still a calm mask despite her betraying tone. "You do not have an option in any case. And do you think I am blind? I see how well you get along with each of your patients, especially your old squad members from your days in the Eleventh! I see how you lust to join them in the sparring fields. How you look at them in admiration when they come home fresh from battle. Do not think I do not know how you miss the field!"

Blushing, Katsue immediately bowed to her beloved Captain, the woman who had taken her in over a hundred years ago and taught her the healing arts. Captain Unohana had treated her as if she were her own child, just as she had treated everyone in the Fourth Squad. "My apologies, Captain," she murmured to her feet, self-consciously aware of the Eleventh officers snickering.

A soft sigh escaped Captain Unohana's lips as she sank slowly back into her chair. "Captain Zaraki will expect you at his headquarters shortly. Officers Madarame and Ayasegawa will escort you. Make sure you bring some medical supplies—they tell me that Captain Zaraki has been fighting again, and requires medical aid."

Baldy stepped forward, a slow grin spreading across his face as he looked Katsue from head to tail and back again, his eyes lingering momentarily on her rump. "We should get goin' then."

"Madarame," Captain Unohana spoke to him softly. "Please excuse us, I wish to speak to Nanashi privately before you depart. You may await her outside in the courtyard."

"Of course," he snickered, and without another word he and his fellow officer, Ayasegawa, slipped out the officer, sliding the rice paper door closed behind them.

"Captain?" Katsue's voice was trembling as she stared at her feet.

"Take care, Nanashi Katsue," her captain spoke just as softly. "Whatever reason you gave Zaraki to take interest in you, I do not know. But you must be careful with him, and with his squad."

Katsue nodded silently.

"And," Katsue jumped as she found a pair of delicate hands braced on her shoulders, "take my advice. Do as little healing as you can, and let Zaraki recover on his own. It will make your life much easier if he is not able to move at his full capacity."

She jumped in surprise and looked up at her captain, her stormy gray eyes clouded for only a moment in confusion. "I understand," she murmured.

**XXXX**

Katsue was spitting out curses right and left as she followed Baldy and Wierdo. That was all she felt like calling this odd duo from the Eleventh Squad—she had no intention to learn their names or to show them the respect their position deserved. To hell with them anyway! They were the harbingers of her doom, for the love of—

"Don't see what he sees in her," Baldy drawled lazily as he cast a look over his shoulder at her. "Matsumoto's boobs are better."

"Her rump isn't flat either," Wierdo replied before smoothing his hair. "She must be a good kisser."

Anger flared up, and before Katsue could think she had her zanpakutou in her hand and sliding easily from its sheath—she would teach these assholes to show her some respect if it was the last thing she did!

"Ahh, I think we made her made," Baldy paused and turned to face her, a broad grin spreading across his face as he cast her zanpakutou a dismissive glance. "Are you askin' for a fight, runt?" his long fingers ran lazily up the length of his zanpakutou's hilt, as if he were considering whether or not to draw it. As if she weren't worth his time.

"Do not make me mad," Katsue growled and shoved past them, her shoulder bumping into Baldy's roughly enough to force him back a step as she took the lead. Her zanpakutou was positively humming in her hand with the urge to get at Baldy's zanpakutou—and lord knows she was itching for a fight—but her training… She was not the fighter. She was the healer.

Baldy crowed with laughter as they fell into step behind her. It took her a while, and a lot of patience, but she finally managed to tune out their taunting banter by the time she came to a stop in front of the Eleventh Squad Headquarters. A cold hand gripped her chest as an oppressive weight fell around her. Somewhere, in the depths of that lair of imbeciles and meat heads, Zaraki Kenpachi lay in wait.

"Nana-cha-a-a-a-a-an!" a small, pink-haired girl darted to her feet and raced across the small courtyard the minute her bright eyes landed on Katsue. Vice Captain Kusajika Yachiru was smiling that beautifully innocent smile of hers as she ran straight up to Katsue, her small hands wrapping into the folds of pants. "What took you so long, Nana-chan?"

"Vice Captain," Katsue bowed slightly from her hips, before she offered the little girl her hand. Yachiru giggled and shoved her tiny hand into Katsue's, before she started to lead her straight to the lion's lair.

"I'm so happy you're coming to stay with us!" she sang, her little feet beating into the dirt as she marched to the tune of her own beat. "But Nana-chan," and suddenly her smile faded as she looked up over her shoulder at Katsue, a full throttle pout on her lips. "How could you come here so slowly when Ken-chan is hurt?" she whined.

Sighing, Katsue gave her little hand a squeeze. "I came as soon as my orders were issued, Yachi-Yachi." And after she packed an over night bag. And a medical bag. And fed her cat. And stopped at the lunch room to grab a quick meal. Besides, the last time she had seen Zaraki he had seemed well enough.

"He's gotten a lot worse since we got back to Sereitei," Yachiru pouted, her small lips trembling as she fought back tears. "I told Kenny not to, but he ran off to fight all by himself even though his wound was bleeding again…" she sniffled and marched up the steps in front of the Headquarters, her free hand slamming open the door along its tracks.

"Captain Zaraki was fighting again?" Katsue blinked as she watched Yachiru. She was purposely ignoring the array of scruffy and hungry looking Shinigami that littered the common room of the building. She could feel their dirty little eyes on her, and she could hear them conversation die off as they watched Yachiru lead her towards the back halls.

"Mhm," Yachiru nodded, her little arm starting to swing back and forth as she held Katsue's hand. "That stupid hollow got real lucky and landed a hit on Kenny! But Kenny killed it real quick after that, but he hasn't stopped bleeding since!"

"Why hasn't he been brought to the Fourth Squad?" a small bit of guilt started to creep in on the edges of resentment that she felt for the Eleventh Squad captain. As much as she despised him and his lot, she would not wish him dead or slowing dying due to wounds that were easily healed. It was her duty, and the duty of her squad, to make sure that no Captain or Shinigami died to hollow-induced wounds. It would be an embarrassment, and in insult, to them all if Zaraki got himself killed because of his stupid, stubborn pride—

"Because," Yachiru stuck out her bottom lip as she cast an accusatory look at Katsue, "he won't let anyone but you tend to him, and you told him not to come back!"

Katsue blinked in surprise at the Vice Captain's tone and the idea that Zaraki had not come to her because she had forbade him to. "Are you joking?"

"You said not to come back."

She froze in her tracks as a familiar gruff voice growled behind her. A cold chill settled into the base of her spine before she turned slowly, only to find Captain Zaraki himself leaning against the door jamb of the office her and Yachiru had just passed.

"Ken-chan! You shouldn't be moving around!" Yachiru cried out as she dropped Katsue's hand and ran to Zaraki's side. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes as she tugged at his pants, her lips in full pout mode.

Steeling herself, Katsue dipped into a shallow bow. "Captain Zaraki," she spoke calmly, coolly. "I am here at your summons to tend to your wounds." Captain Unohana would be proud of her, she thought as she straightened. Much to her surprise, Zaraki simply grunted at her before casually strolling past her towards a set of wide rice paper doors at the end of the hall, Yachiru clinging to his legs.

"What are you waiting for," the small Vice Captain snapped angrily as she cast a glare back at Katsue. "Kenny needs your help!"

"Yachiru, I want you to leave us," Zaraki spoke in a low murmur as he turned his black-eyed gaze at the little girl. "Matsumoto wants to see you about somethin' to do with make-up from the real world."

Katsue's heart sank in her chest as Yachiru squealed in delight, her small feet eating up the distance as she dashed down the hall, back the way they had come from. Which, of course, left Katsue alone with Zaraki. In a poorly lit hall. Surrounded by a pit of vipers. She swallowed past a knot of nerves in her throat before she spoke up, "You hardly appear wounded, Captain."

Zaraki shot her a cold glare that almost made her turn around and run for home. With one move of his arm he slid the doors to his office wide open and disappeared into the darkness beyond. Katsue hesitated, before taking cautious steps forward. She would be lying to herself if she thought she wasn't scared, but oddly enough she was also excited. Her stomach was in a nervous fit as she came to a stop just inside the doorway.

"Close the door," Zaraki growled as a lamp flared to life on a large maple desk. It was just enough light to illuminate his huge form as he turned to face her, his one visible eye glinting coldly.

A blush heated Katsue's cheeks as she saw the look he gave her—that same look that spoke of some level of hunger deep in his eyes. Damn her traitorous hormones, she cursed herself as her body tingled as it remembered the feel of him against her. "Is that completely necessary?"

Zaraki's eyes left her for only a moment as he looked past her, back down the hall they had come from. She looked over her shoulder just in time to see the heads of several Shinigami duck behind a corner at the far end of the hall. "Close the door and come here," he growled, drawing her attention back to him. Without any hesitance he shrugged off the thick cloth of his haori. "It's not necessary for my men to see me like this," his voice was a deep purr at his eyes focused back on hers.

Katsue swallowed again, before completely turning around to slowly slide the door shut. The Shinigami of Eleventh Squad were peeking curiously around the corner again, and she prayed to the gods that one of them noticed the desperate look of panic she gave them. Darkness fell in around her as the door slid shut with an audible click, and the light from the hall faded. She was all too aware of the burning sensation that told her Zaraki was still watching her and the sound of his rustling clothes as he shed the rest of his shihakusho.

Never, in her entire career, had Katsue thought that if she turned around she would find a naked patient behind her. But after today…dear gods, she wasn't sure. And if it had been anyone other than Zaraki—anyone other than the man who had come on to her so strongly earlier—she would have never thought twice about offering her medical expertise to a wounded, naked man. It was part of the job. She had tended naked men plenty of times. So why, then, did the prospect of facing a naked _Zaraki_ terrify her? It terrified her more than facing a clothed Zaraki with his zanpakutou drawn!

"Where are you hurt, then?" she spoke, and winced as her voice came out as a quiet squeak. She took a long, slow, steadying breath before turning to face Zaraki. And then her breath all left her in a short expletive as she took in the sight of the body that his uniform had hid.

He spread one of his bandaged arms out at his side as he gave her the biggest shit eating grin she had ever seen in her life. "Pick a region," he growled.

"Dear gods, Zaraki!" she swore over and over again as she hurried to his forward, her hands firm and quick and she shoved him towards the large chair that sat behind his desk. He was stripped down to his small clothes, and she could hardly look at any part of his anatomy without seeing a bloody bandage, a bruise, or some scratch that marred his tan skin. "What the hell were you doing?" she hissed at him and pushed him down into the chair. She barely noticed the growl of approval her gave her at her rough handling.

"Fighting," he laughed wolfishly as he watched her small hands fly as she went to work. She dug a pair of scissors from the bag she had slung across her back, before she deposited the whole load on his desk with a heavy thunk. "Someone has to do it."

She cast him a sharp glare before she lifted the edge of the bandage that Yachiru had wrapped across his chest and around his shoulder earlier in the evening. "Do not start up again," she growled under her breath as she started cutting the cloth away from his skin. "Who patched you up?"

"Yachiru," he growled and leaned back in his chair. "She did a terrible job." Katsue cast him a wary look before she took a step forward to keep close to him as she cut at the bandage. "No one in the Eleventh Squad is skilled in healing kidou or first aid. Yachiru is as good as it gets."

She snorted as layer after layer of blood soaked bandage fell to the wrath of her scissors. "Fourth Squad offers several lectures and classes on emergency first aid through out the year," she murmured, concentrating on a particularly stubborn knot of the bandage. "Several members of the Eleventh always sign up."

"I said none of them were skilled," Zaraki drawled and leaned back further. He was smirking as he watched Katsue unconsciously take another step forward, her attention too focused on her work for her to notice that she now stood between his thighs as she worked.

"That's a shame," she winced as she gently started to peel away layer after layer of bandaging. With a heavy sigh, she examined the bloody mess that was Zaraki's chest as she discarded the pile of cloth into a nearby waste basket. "Anything I should know about this hollow? Kidou? Poison? Saliva with decaying properties?"

"It had sharp claws," Zaraki grunted absently. He was too busy raking his eyes across Katsue's small body and letting his imagination wander.

"Sit up," she barked suddenly and poked at the edge of his wound. "I need more light."

Zaraki surged forward abruptly, his body overwhelming hers as he reached past her to grab the lamp on his desk. "Whatever you say, Katsue," he murmured, his face only inches away from hers, before he fell back in to his chair. A small flick of his wrist turned the lamp up brightly, its light casting Zaraki's body into stark relief.

Katsue scowled before she grabbed a bottle from her bag. "This will sting," she growled and twisted off the cap. Zaraki only quirked an eyebrow at her as he watched her press closer to him, her small body wedging itself between his legs, her warm hand bracing her body on his chest as she leaned forward… A slow grin spread on his face as he cupped a mammoth hand on her hip. And she returned his grin with a coy smile, before unceremoniously dumping the entire contents of the bottle right on to Zaraki's open wound.

He swore and snarled before sitting up, his hand squeezing her hip tightly as he glowered at her.

"Don't toy with me, Zaraki," she growled back and slipped easily from his grasp.

He growled angrily and fell back in his chair, his black eye glaring down at his chest where the clear contents of her devil bottle was bubbling and fizzing in every crevice of his bloody wound. The stinging pain forced his muscles to start twitching despite the glare he aimed at his own body. "That was uncalled for," he rumbled as she turned back to him with a jar of cotton balls in her dainty hands.

"You're a pansy," she sniffed and leaned forward. Zaraki watched her warily, a frown firmly in place on his face, as she began to dab at his wound with one cotton ball after another. Her lips pursed slightly as she blew gently on the fizzing liquid. A wave of cool relief spread wherever her breath touched his wound, instantly easing the aggressive tension in his body.

"I don't think I've inflicted any physical pain on you to warrant that," he grunted absently. Katsue was cool and collected as she finished cleaning the last of the wound. Much to Zaraki's dismay, she remained silent as she went to work with a needle and thread to draw his skin together.

Katsue's heart was bruising the inside of her chest as it beat frantically. A myriad of emotions battled around in her as she worked on Zaraki with remarkably sturdy hands. Foremost of them all was guilt, and lust. She cursed herself. There was just no ignoring the extreme masculinity of Zaraki's body, especially as he lounged there in his chair with his chest rising and falling steadily with his breath. He was nothing but thick muscle and hard angles; and he smelled like sweat and some type of flower that mingled together in a ridiculously appealing way. He was the epitome of raw power stuffed into the body of a single man.

"I'm sorry," she spoke up at last as she tied off her first chain of stitches, and started on a gouge marring the skin on his broad shoulder.

"Hm?" his eyes followed her hands as she stitched up the wound in a few smooth movements of her wrist.

"You're right, you didn't deserve that," she grunted grumpily. She took a few moments to dab some more of her evil liquid concoction on a few cuts and scrapes that littered his left arm. "The rest of these will heal fine without any more attention. Just be careful not to tear your stitches apart or reopen your wounds and you'll be back on the field in no time," she murmured. She glanced at his left arm as she straightened and noted the lack of blood on the bandage that wrapped him from shoulder to wrist. She hadn't noticed until now, as she stared at the limp limb resting on his chair, but he had been favoring that arm all evening. "Lift that arm."

Zaraki frowned at her.

Sighing, Katsue applied her mighty scissors to the bandage. "You should have come to me the moment you came back to Soul Society," she snapped in agitation as she gently cut the bandage apart and peeled it away from his arm. A brilliant purple bruise covered his entire arm, turning a deep black towards the middle of his forearm. "Gods…" she gasped and leaned against his desk.

Zaraki snarled as he struggled to lift his broken arm. "This is a lot easier to do in battle," he growled and slowly flexed his arm, his muscle bulging under his bruises.

The slap that Katsue planted firmly on his cheek snapped his full attention on to her gloriously angry face. A beast stirred deep in Zaraki's body as he watched her hands tremble and curl into fists at her side. Her cloudy gray eyes roiled with anger and…concern? "You damn well deserved that, Captain Zaraki," her voice trembled as she spoke. "Never have I met a man as foolish as yourself, who parades his injuries about as if they were nothing! When you can barely use a limb!"

A firm frown creased his face. Yachiru had been concerned over his wounds, but no where near this upset. And she was the only girl that really cared for him.

In silent anger, Katsue slowly unclenched her fists and went back to work. Even though Zaraki would feel the tension in her movements to lash out again, she was exceedingly gentle as she coaxed his broken arm into a more natural and supported position. She tied flat boards of bamboo to his arm with all the care in the world, before rewrapping his arm in a clean new bandage. With all the care in the world, she slipped a triangular shaped cloth under his arm, lifting two tips up behind his neck. Her body brushed against him as she tied the splint, the gentle swells of her bosom pressing slightly against his chest.

"Your legs don't seem broken," she spoke coldly as she packed up her bag. "Nor do you have any bleeding wounds elsewhere."

"The Eleventh Squad is expected to operate with bleeding wounds and broken limbs," Zaraki spoke up finally as her she tugged the ties of her bag closed in what seemed a decisive manner. "If not, we would die more often in the field. A broken arm means nothing compared to defeating the enemy, before it defeats you."

"A broken arm and a bleeding gut means you win as fast as you can, then immediately see a healer," her voice was still alarmingly cold as she threw her bag over her shoulder and turned towards the door. "You may see me whenever you need me, Captain, if it means that you won't let injuries like these go untreated again."

Zaraki rose to his feet as soon as she took her first step to leave, his good hand reaching out to roughly grab her shoulder. With a surge of strength her turned Katsue's back to the closest wall and pushed her against it. "I do what is necessary," he snarled and pressed the entire length of his body against hers. The thick length of his erection dug into the soft flesh of her stomach, alerting them both to Zaraki's desire. "And I do not need you lecturing me on how to do my job, when you couldn't handle it yourself."

"Why do you do this to me?" Katsue's voice was a low whimper as she dropped her bag to the floor, both of her hands reaching out to push at the solid wall that was Zaraki's chest. A low moan tore out of her throat as his only response was to swivel his hips against hers as his mouth clamped hungrily on her neck. Her body responded immediately as a warmth bloomed between her legs, and her body gyrated against his in a fluid motion.

Both of their breathing grew harsh and labored as body rubbed against body. Katsue's small hands stopped pushing against the unstoppable force that was Zaraki, and instead clung to him. His rough, hungry mouth traveled up her neck in a series of hard bites and languorous licks until he crushed his lips to hers, a hungry growl ripping at the back of his throat.

A slight trembling started deep in Katsue's body as Zaraki's hungry growls grew louder and his kisses hungrier. Panic gripped her chest when his massive hand tugged at her obi. Tearing her face away from his, she gasped for breath, her lungs sucking in gallons of air as fast as she could. "Stop it," she panted.

And immediately Zaraki's whole body grew still and tense with restraint. He no longer ground his throbbing erection against her body, and his mouth on her neck grew tenderer. "You want me," he growled between a kiss and a bite.

"Gods, Zaraki," she cried out and shoved hard against his chest. "Go harass someone that actually wants you!" He backed away from her immediately in response, an angry glower on his face as he opened his mouth to argue. But before he could speak, Katsue was already at the door and tearing it open. He watched as she disappeared down the hall, her feet pounding at the wooden floor as she shoved past a group of his officers lounging lazily at the end of the hall.

Cursing, Zaraki raked a hand through his hair before letting out a frustrated snarl. "Gods damn it!" he roared and punched at the wall, his fist biting through the plaster and wood.

* * *

*squeals delightfully* Zaraki with blue balls, beat that, world! Gimme feedback, because I like it. I like it like a fat kid likes cake. *loves cake*


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 3/?  
Rating: MA for smut and language.  
Warnings: Coarse language, adult themes. No smut yet (I'm workin' on it!).  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Tite Kubo's. Nanashi Katsue is mine though!  
A/N: I triple checked for typos this time, and I think I got all of them... A quick note, because I know it's something that confuses a lot of people sometimes: I used the -kun honorific when Yachiru is referring to Matsumoto, even though it is rude in Japanese culture for a female to call another woman -kun. But I thought it fit Yachiru, considering she's being raised by a gruff Zaraki who doesn't much care for manners (and I believe she talks that way in the anime, too). You will also see me intermittedly used -san between characters (on and off). I change whether or not a character will use the -san honorific when talking to someone depending on who else is involved in the scene. For instance: Hanatarou uses -san when talking to Katsue in front of Zaraki and Yachiru, to show respect, but he doesn't use it when it's just the two of them.

And I shamelessly use Japanese honorifics and several Japanese terms from the Anime/Manga, especially if it refers to a proper noun or title or some such (I know that bothers some readers, but get over it; this is all based off the Japanese culture and I'm not translating crap because I suck at it). You can google almost any and every Japanese term I use and you will get a result that explains it perfectly, and most of the time it will bring up a Bleach fan page that has definitions.

* * *

Katsue sighed heavily and sank into a chair. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion as she shamelessly watched her assistant for the day, Yamada Hanatarou, clean up the mess her last patient had left in her new clinic. The young Shinigami chatted easily as he straightened knocked over jars and picked up splintered pieces of wood that littered the floor. She barely paid attention, she was so tired. "How do you like your new station so far, Katsue?" the young man asked cheerfully.

She sighed again and sat up slowly. Hanatarou had just been helping her pin down a rambunctious member from the Eleventh Squad with a dreadful fear of medics as she tried to pull a splinter from his thumb. It was ridiculous that they had to put so much effort into such a silly thing, but the man had reluctantly come to her, terrified that his thumb would fall off if he didn't get help. "It's wonderful," she drawled sarcastically.

In reality, she was cursing the forces that brought her to this rundown abandoned storage building that she had to turn into a clinic in the span of a week. The facility was nowhere near up to par with what she had at the Fourth's headquarters, and she still had a long way to go until she would be able to handle the majority of wounds that the Eleventh often came to her for treatment. And all week, much to her chagrin, she had been seeing one young man after the next as they whined over paper cuts, splinters, and sprained ankles. Hell, she had to splint one Shinigami's _pinky_ after he knocked himself on the hand with his own zanpakutou.

Hanatarou, bless him, sighed in sympathy. "I admire you, Katsue! I don't think I could live out here by myself with the Eleventh Squad all around…they're so intimidating."

He didn't know the half of it, Katsue grumbled to herself. She spent half her time avoiding the higher up officers, and the rest of it wrestling with the riff raff that seemed to have a fear of her rather than treating their cursed wounds. "He should have been the last one for the day," she changed the subject as she cast a look out a small window that looked out on a parched patch of dry dirt. The sun was setting slowly far off in the distance, the fading light painting the sky of Sereitei with pinks and golds. "Thank you for your help today, Hanatarou."

"It was my pleasure," the young man hummed before peeling off a pair of elbow-length gloves and depositing them into a trash receptacle. "I'll come back tomorrow around the same time, okay?"

She gave him a small smile, too tired to properly stand up and give him a big hug. He was the most reliable of her volunteers ever since her clinic was moved to the back door of the Eleventh Squad Headquarters. All her old aids and helpers were too scared to come visit her, let alone tend to the cretins that teased and insulted them everywhere else. She most definitely had a thankless job, and having to perform it virtually on her own made it all the more frustrating. "I just hope we'll stop getting people in for paper cuts," she laughed softly.

"Ken-chan is making everyone come when they're hurt," a young girl's pouty voice drew Katsue's eyes towards her wide open door. Yachiru stood pouting on the small porch outside, with Zaraki Kenpachi looming behind her, his shoulders hunched forward so that his arms hung low enough for Yachiru to cling to one of his mammoth hands. "He says it's for our own good," she sniffled.

It took a moment for Katsue to register what she was saying. She was too busy staring shamelessly at the bright colors that painted Yachiru's entire face. Every inch of the girl's delicate skin was painted a bright shade of indigo blue, fire red or bright pink. And her short fingers were swollen around small bands of metallic rings that decorated each of her fingers. Yachiru sniffled miserably, and without paying any attention to Zaraki, Katsue hauled herself out of her chair to go to the young Vice Captain's side.

"What happened, Yachi-Yachi?" she spoke in soft, soothing tones as Yachiru transferred her tiny hand from Zaraki's to Katsue's. The small Vice Captain followed her back into her exam room, and let Katsue lift her up onto her table.

Hanatarou barely suppressed a snort of laughter as he moved a small wheeled table to Katsue's side. "Shut up, asshole!" Yachiru screeched as she caught sight of the young Shinigami trying not to laugh. A low growl from Zaraki as he stepped in to the room was enough to choke off the rest of his laughter. "Matsumoto-kun and I were playing dress up, but the stupid human make up won't come off and it stinks!" she cried and buried her face into the folds of Katsue's black kimono.

"Soap and water ain't workin'," Zaraki rumbled from where he stood, still looming just inside the clinic door. His black eye was still locked threateningly on Hanatarou as the scared man rushed to gather supplies from Katsue's shelves. "And the rings are stuck."

"I just wanted to look pretty, Nana-chan!" Yachiru cried.

Casting a sidelong glance at Zaraki, Katsue pried Yachiru's small hands out of her clothes and set the little Vice Captain sitting straight on her exam table. "Come on, Yachi-Yachi," she spoke softly as she smoothed the girls pink hair and tucked a stray strand behind one of her ears. When Yachiru looked up at her, wide eyes watery with tears, Katsue gave her a bright smile. "I'll get you all cleaned up and as pretty as you always have been, okay?"

Yachiru swallowed back another sob before nodding, a small smile curling her lips.

"Now, that doesn't look like human make up," Katsue giggled girlishly as she tilted Yachiru's round face towards the light. "Did any of the boxes have the word 'dye' on them?"

"I think so…" Yachiru pouted. "My head is a little fuzzy."

"Her and Matsumoto were in the sake," Zaraki's voice was a deep rumble as he finally went to Katsue's abandoned chair and sank his immense weight into it. The poor thing creaked as he settled in.

"I didn't have a lot!" Yachiru huffed.

"Let's get those rings off first, I think," Katsue spoke absently before she turned to the table Hanatarou had put beside her. He had already laid out a bowl of warm water, with a bar of soap and a wash cloth. Thank the gods for him, Katsue prayed, he made life so much easier. She quietly soaked the cloth before rubbing it vigorously over the bar of soap.

"I dunno why they're stuck," Yachiru sniffled again. "Matsumoto-kun got the same size rings I always wear!"

When Katsue turned back to her, she had a brilliant smile fixed on her face before she took one of her small hands in her own. "Well," Katsue spoke as she started to rub the soap covered cloth on one of her short fingers, "you are growing, Yachi-Yachi. So your hands will grow to keep up with you, too."

The little girl's face screwed up. "You mean I'm getting _fat_?"

Laughing, Katsue easily slipped one of the soaped up rings from the first of her fingers. "Not fat, just bigger. You're getting taller, so your body will change to keep up. You're starting to grow into a beautiful young woman, Yachiru."

Yachiru's eyes grew big and wide as she gazed up at Katsue in wonder. "Does that mean I'll get boobs like Matsumoto-kun?"

Hanatarou snorted with laughter again before Zaraki cast him a level glare.

"It's possible," Katsue grinned and slid another ring from her finger.

"Hmm…" Yachiru cast a quick glance over Katsue's body. "I think I'd rather have boobs like yours! They're like nice big water balloons that fit perfectly in your hands. Even Ken-chan likes them!"

A blush heated Katsue's cheeks as Hanatarou finally erupted into laughter that no amount of growling from Zaraki could silence. "Well," she swallowed nervously and removed another ring, "thank you for the compliment."

"Well it's the truth," Yachiru pouted as she cast an angry glare at Hanatarou. "I don't want big knockers like Matsumoto-kun. She always gets back aches 'cause of them, and they look hard to manage! Plus," her voice lowered conspiratorially as she leaned closer to Katsue, "hers'll get saggy really fast, and you're a lot older than her and yours are still nice and perky."

"That's enough, runt," Zaraki sighed and settled back into his chair, the wood whining as his weight shifted. He tried to fold his arms over his chest, only to pause halfway as he remembered one of his arms was still in a splint. Scowling, he settled for sitting there, his good arm resting on his knee.

"But Ken-chan! Hers are the only boobies you've ever actually said you _liked_!"

"That's enough," he barked.

Yachiru sighed and visibly shrank as she returned her attention back to Katsue and her hands. "I just want to have nice boobies…"

Katsue's face was on fire as she slipped the last ring off of Yachiru's little hands. "I'm sure you will," she croaked past a tight throat and gently rinsed the last of the soap suds off her tiny hands. "Now, that looks like you two tried to paint your faces with hair dye," she smiled shakily and tilted Yachiru's face back up towards hers. "Did it sting and smell like bleach?"

"Nope!" Yachiru hummed and started kicking her feet back and forth as they hung over the edge of the exam table. "It just smells bad."

"That's good," Katsue laughed softly and grabbed the jar of cotton balls from her little table, along with a fresh bottle of the evil liquid she had dumped on Zaraki only a week ago. "Close your eyes," she smiled as the little Vice Captain immediately complied. Dabbing the cotton balls over the mouth of her bottle, Katsue set to work rubbing gently at Yachiru's stained cheeks and forehead. "This won't get rid of all the color today," she spoke softly, "but it will make it fade a little bit every day until it's all gone. By the end of the week your skin will be as good as new, Yachi-Yachi."

Yachiru made a muffled sound that resembled a pleased squeal. After a few moments, her lips spread in a wide smile as she let out a little giggle. "You should've seen Ken-chan the morning after you fixed him up, Nana-chan," she whispered loudly. Katsue was all too aware of the cold shiver that ran up her spine, telling her that Zaraki's eyes were staring at her. "It took him six tries to get out of bed 'cause he was so sore and stiff! And he couldn't put any weight on his arm so it took him forever!"

This time it was Katsue's turn to stifle a snort of laughter. The image of Zaraki snarling and growling as he struggled to sit up was immensely amusing. And he damn well deserved whatever physical difficulties he had to put up with all week. "There," Katsue announced as she dabbed at Yachiru's button nose with a flourish. "You look less like a rainbow and more like a woman, Yachi-Yachi. I'll give you a bottle to take home with you so you can do this yourself, as well as a bottle for Matsumoto-san."

"Yay! Thank you Nana-chan!" she squealed and leapt from the exam table, her little hands reaching out for Zaraki as she ran to him. Without a moment's hesitation or Yachiru's prompting, he leaned over and scooped her up with his good arm, depositing her on his knee. "All better, Ken-chan!"

Katsue smiled wryly before offering Zaraki two bottles of her miracle liquid. "Twice a day should be more than enough; once in the morning and then again before she goes to bed. It'll be more effective if she does it after washing her face," she told him coolly.

Zaraki grunted. "What is that shit?"

"Rubbing alcohol," she purred proudly as he took both of the bottles in his massive hand. His fingers brushed hers as he did, sending a warm shock through her hands.

His scowl was enough to keep her mind away from the odd reaction her body had to his touch. "Yamada," he barked. At once the quiet Shinigami snapped out of his daydreaming as he had been cleaning up Katsue's mess and came to attention. "Take Yachiru to Matsumoto's."

Katsue frowned.

"Ken-chan?" Yachiru blinked in surprise as she watched Zaraki hand the bottles of precious liquid that would restore her skin to Hanatarou. "But you said we'd go get sweets!"

"Have Matsumoto take you," he grunted and deposited her on to the floor. He stood up slowly, his broad chest and back arching as he stretched. Katsue could just hear his joints popping as he did, and she momentarily felt pleased that he was still stiff a week after his jaunt into the real world. "I gave you money for it this morning."

"But Ken-chan!" Yachiru whined even as she fisted her hands into Hanatarou's pants.

"Katsue-san?" Hanatarou spoke up softly, catching Katsue's attention.

She stared at him for a moment, before she realized that he was asking her for permission to leave for the day. She winced as she realized exactly what that would mean: her alone with Zaraki. She resisted shuddering as she squared her shoulders stubbornly. "You were ordered by a captain," she sniffed and gave Zaraki a cross look. She couldn't stay mad, however, as Hanatarou's face lit up with excitement. She knew he was also good friends with Vice Captain Matsumoto from the Tenth Squad.

"But what will you do, Ken-chan?" Yachiru was still pouting even as she followed beside Hanatarou as he stepped towards the door.

"Gettin' a check up," Zaraki grinned lazily at Katsue, sending a cold shiver along her spine yet again.

Yachiru sighed. "Fine," she pouted, "I'll bring home some of those lemon drops that you like."

Katsue swallowed the lump in her throat as she watched, helpless to stop it, as Yachiru and Hanatarou hurried down her porch steps and across the courtyard, disappearing around the far corner of the Eleventh Squad Headquarters. The two were chatting happily as they walked, oblivious to the desperate look on Katsue's face as she debated whether or not to hurry after them. Third parties seemed to be the only thing that kept Zaraki Kenpachi in check around her, and now she was alone with him. She felt oddly reminiscent to a lamb lead to a slavering wolf.

Zaraki's body filled the doorway in front of her as he slid shut her door. It clicked as he locked it, the small sound reverberating in Katsue's head as if it were the executioner's axe falling. She was shut in her small exam room, with a mad man.

Katsue took a long, steadying breath as she gathered her nerves and stood straighter. Zaraki stepped towards her, all raw, aggressive power. "What seems to be the problem?" the words fell easily out of her mouth. This was like every other check up, they seemed to say.

His body hit her like a ton of bricks, the sheer bulk and size of him pushing her roughly against her exam table. "You're the fucking problem," he snarled as he leaned his face towards hers. "Don't you ever lie to me again," his lips peeled back from his teeth as he bared them at her wide, shocked eyes. "Don't you ever say that you don't want me, not ever again. You and me both know that it's a lie."

Delicate brown eyebrows forked together as Katsue glared back at him angrily, her whole body going stiff. "You are so full of yourself," she growled slowly, "to come barging into my clinic, throwing yourself against me, and automatically assuming that I like you!" She spread her palm flat and smacked the blind side of his face. She ignored the stinging pain in her hand, and the fact that he didn't even flinch at the impact. "How dare you!"

"Your mouth says one thing but your body says otherwise," he growled and ground his hips into hers. He barked a short, crisp laugh as Katsue barely managed to choke back a gasping moan. "So why don't you stop denyin' it, princess, and give me a chance."

"Do you even know my surname?" she spat at him between clenched teeth. "Do you? Or do you just know what everyone calls me? What are my hobbies? My likes and dislikes? What're my favorite foods? Huh?"

Zaraki only glared in silence.

"There is nothing between you and I, Zaraki, besides some basic, animalistic sexual attraction!" she exclaimed and slapped him again. "All you are looking for is a rough tumble-fuck, and I am not interested!"

Zaraki swore and pushed himself away from her immediately. "Gods, you idiot," he snarled and sent a hungry look her way. "If I just wanted a fuck I would've taken you when I first had the chance, or spent my money on a cheap whore in Rukongai," he spoke as he began pacing in front of her. He was like a giant angry panther, prowling and hissing as he talked the subject of his desire. "How the hell do you want me to go about this, huh? Like those spineless whelps that come in here every day with bloody _paper cuts _while they try to get your attention? I don't do that shy bullshit, as if those pricks don't know whether or not you'd even be interested in 'em. I know what I want, and I fucking want you," he snarled and finally fell still, turning his broad back towards hers as his hand gripped tightly at the hilt of his zanpakutou.

Katsue fell still, her body still pressed back against her exam table in an effort to put as much distance between her and Zaraki. She watched, stunned into silence, as his whole body trembled as he fought to get himself back under control. She could feel his reiatsu spiking all over the place, his sheer power starting to manifest in that yellow aura that glowed around his skin. Her brain was struggling to fit around the things he said to her, and watching him fight with his own power wasn't helping.

"Fuck," he snarled and tore his hands through his hair as he cast a glare over his shoulder at her. His bells jingled, echoing his anger. "Hell, do you just want all that bullshit dating crap? You want me to dress up like a doll and take you out?"

"Zaraki—" he interrupted her soft voice with an angry shake of his head.

"Call me Kenpachi, for the love of—" he growled in frustration before throwing both of his arms down at his side in frustration. She winced as she watched his broken arm tear the knot out of his splint, but he didn't seem to notice. "Cause fair warning, I suck at that bullshit. It's not me and I'd probably fuck it up. I mean, hell—"

"Just stop being so damn aggressive!" she finally broke in, her voice strong as she spoke up. She pushed herself off of her table as he fully turned to face her, still scowling and growling under his breath.

"I stopped when you said no," he snarled quietly. "I left when you told me to. I stayed away when you ordered it," his growl grew louder as he spoke.

"You overwhelmed me, Zaraki," she spoke heatedly. "I had no bloody idea what was going on! And then you started trying to get a rise out of me! You're just so…so…!"

"What?" he snapped and approached her. He was all too aware of her hesitant step back, and her arm lifting up as if she were trying to stop him. He scoffed in disgust as he looked down at her wide gray eyes. "Here I thought you were some big brave badass, the way you taunted and teased me like it was nothin'. You had a fuckin' backbone and stood up to me. But that was just all a front, wasn't in? You're fuckin' scared shitless of me."

"I'm not scared of you," she spoke quietly, hesitantly lifting her hand as if she thought to reach out and touch him.

"Prove it," he snarled.

And then she completely floored his ass.

She didn't come to him with the stark urgency of a scared woman obeying orders, with a careless haste and frenzied fervor. Instead, she moved slowly and deliberately, her eyes locked on his until she was so close that he could feel her body heat through his shihakusho. She didn't throw herself at him, or curl into herself like he half expected. She carefully lifted his busted arm, gently settled it across the back of her neck with all the delicacy in the world, and then rested her forehead on the broad expanse of his chest.

"You don't scare me, Zaraki Kenpachi," she spoke quietly, breathlessly, as her gentle touch parted his kimono. Her fingers ghosted over the angry red wounds that were slowly healing across his chest, sending little shivers through his body. "You overwhelm me," her voice was a soft whisper as she rose to the tips of her toes, her body arching against his chest as she lifted her face to his. She kissed him softly, tenderly, her full lips soft and pliable against his. Her small hand slid up his chest, back behind his neck, and buried into his deep black hair.

He growled into her lips and picked her up, wrapping her long slender legs around his waist as he set her rump down on her exam table. She gasped as he returned her kiss aggressively, his harsh lips bearing down on to hers until she parted her lips with a soft gasp. Taking advantage, he slipped his tongue past her feeble defense until he could taste the soft silky heat of her mouth. He growled louder, his good arm pulling her lower body closer to him until he heard her moan.

"Stop," she gasped and tore her mouth away from his. She was panting heavily as she braced her hands on his shoulders, her stormy eyes confused as she looked over his hard face. He was scowling at her and his body trembled with restraint. "Please go," she whispered.

Snarling, Zaraki tore his body away from hers for the second time that day and stormed out of her clinic. He tried not to think of the look on her face as he left her—she had been lost and confused and most definitely scared. But not of him. Then what?

He cursed and let his reiatsu do whatever the hell it wanted to, even if it did tear gouges into the earth with every step he took.

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And it starts to heat up! I should probably join a Fan Listing so that this story will get more attention, because I'm going into feedback withdraw.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 4/?  
Rating: MA for smut and language.  
Warnings: Coarse language, adult themes, nudity. Bath house mischief (someone had to see this coming).  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Tite Kubo's. Nanashi Katsue is mine though!  
A/N: I didn't triple edit this for typos, so please forgive me for my incompetence! My 'r' key in particular has been sticking lately. I didn't really know where I was going with this chapter, other than I wanted there to be bath house mischief. I think I accomplished that much, as well as adding another immensely entertaining chapter (to me) involving Yachiru. I love that little she-devil.

* * *

Katsue didn't see much of Captain Zaraki or Vice Captain Yachiru for quite a while. It was as if her last run in with the burly captain of the Eleventh Squad had left them all a bit shy of each other. She would catch glimpses of him from a distance as he trained new recruits or supervised sparring matches between officers. Yachiru made her self seen a bit more as she occasionally played in the dirt garden outside Katsue's clinic. But every time the little girl caught Katsue watching her, she would grin and run off, giggling to herself. Not sure if she missed either of them, Katsue contented herself with the rare times she did see them.

Shinigami had stopped coming to her with their every stupid little injury, which was a huge relief. It left her with a lot more spare time to fix up her make shift clinic and to simply enjoy herself in her new found company. Already she had come to know several of the Eleventh's lower ranking officers, and she had finally managed to remember Baldy and Wierdo's names whenever they came in to taunt her when they were bored. She'd always entertain them for a bit, before they would wander off laughing and smiling back at her. Madarame Ikkaku, she came to realize, wasn't as much of a dick as she first thought. Ayasegawa Yumichika, though, still made her feel awkward. All he did was go on and on about ugly things versus pretty things, and it was rather irritating, especially when he aimed them at her.

Sighing, Katsue dropped the paint brush she held in an empty pail. She took a step back from the wall she had just finished painting and admired her work. The room above her clinic that she had decided to make her bedroom was falling together nicely—she had cleaned it from floor to ceiling and painted it a pretty shade of blue that reminded her of the ocean. All she had left to do was wax the old wooden floor and move her furniture from her old housing to this one. She could put those brutes she was always bandaging up on that job.

Katsue smiled before setting about cleaning up her mess. It was a simple matter of sealing up paint pails, tossing dirty brushes into buckets of water to soak, and bundling up the large piece of scrap cloth she used to protect her floor. Without a second thought she waltzed from her room, stopping slightly to snatch up her bathing basket from where she left it by her bedroom door. As she skipped down the narrow stairs to the main room of her clinic, she had every intention of heading straight to the public bath house and soaking in the hottest bath she could find for the next few hours.

"Oi, Nanashi-san," a pale, scrawny Shinigami was waiting for her as she pushed out of her front door. He looked exhausted, she noted right off the bat. "I need help!"

"Go get some sleep," she suggested and pushed past him, head held high as she looked up at the fading twilight. By now everyone in the Eleventh Squad had learned that no one was to bother her after the sun had set and she closed up her clinic unless it was an emergency. The last Shinigami that had paid her a visit whining over a jammed finger during the night hours she had sent home with a black eye.

"Nah, Nanashi-san, it's not that! My head hurts!" he whined as he followed her, his foot steps mere shuffles in the dirt. "And I'm dizzy! My eyes are heavy!"

"Because you need sleep," she frowned impatiently and picked up her pace. "Get a good night's sleep and come back tomorrow if you're not feeling better by then."

The scrawny man seem to have gotten her point by the time she reached the tall pillars that marked the entrance of the courtyard to the Eleventh Squad Headquarters. Thankfully, he left her alone and no one else bothered her on her short trek to the closest bath house. She had had a long day of catering to Zaraki's rude underlings, and she didn't particularly feel kind enough to brush off any other confrontations tonight.

"Good evening, Officer Nanashi," the bath attendant greeted her warmly as Katsue ducked behind the hanging curtains that covered the entrance to the bath house. At once a hot humidity weighed down on her chest, and despite the oppressive weight the heat felt good to her.

"Good evening," Katsue smiled. "Are any private baths available?"

As she spoke, the attendant's smile slowly faded until she had a troubled look on her face. "Actually, ma'am… I had a request put in only a short while ago for you…" her voice faded off as the woman's thin shoulders caved in, as if she were readying herself for a rebuttal from Katsue.

Frowning, Katsue quirked an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Captain Zaraki was here, and asked that if you were to come in tonight that you help attend Vice Captain Kusajishi in the captains' bath…" the woman's voice was thin and frail by the time she finished. "He insisted, ma'am."

Katsue smiled in response, before turning away from the woman. "That is hardly something to be scared of," she admonished the young woman as she took brave steps down the hall that lead to the captains' bath. Bathing Yachiru wasn't what Katsue had been hoping for when she came here tonight, but it would definitely be second best to having a private bath to her self for a few hours. Besides, she hummed happily, it wasn't every day that a middle-ranked officer from the Fourth Squad had the opportunity to use the captains' bath.

She disappeared behind the heavy curtain that hung across the doorway to the locker room, and grinned broadly as she found a pouting and naked Yachiru sitting on a bench. The minute she saw Katsue, Yachiru's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Nana-chan! What took you so long?"

Laughing, Katsue bent to hug the little girl as she ran up to her, towel dragging on the floor. "I didn't know you were waiting for me, Yachi-Yachi," Katsue giggled and wrapped the towel tightly around Yachiru's little body. The Vice Captain simply grinned up at her, before gently taking Katsue's wash bucket from her. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Forever!" she giggled and watched as Katsue found an empty cubby. Without a second thought, Katsue removed her straw sandals and white stockings, and started to shed her shihakusho. Yachiru chattered amiably as she watched, telling Katsue about every little thing she had done this week. When Katsue bent to slip her pants off over her ankles, Yachiru let out a long, low whistle that made her blush. "Wow, Nana-chan, you have a great body!"

Blushing, Katsue folded her dirty uniform and shoved it into her cubby hole. "It isn't polite to stare, Yachiru," she admonished the young Vice Captain as she followed her over to a pile of towels. Yachiru handed her one and watched as Katsue wrapped it tightly around her body, tucking in a corner under her arm pit.

"But I stare at everyone," Yachiru sang innocently and handed Katsue her wash bucket back. She raced to grab her own bucket, a pale pink thing brimming with toys, and rushed back to her side. "Matsumoto-kun says it's natural for a girl my age to be curious about naked bodies! She even showed me some magazines that Baldy-Ikkaku keeps under his bedroll that has naked ladies in it, and taught me the names of body parts!"

Katsue couldn't help laughing as Yachiru lead her down a short hall towards one of six large baths that constituted the captains' side of the bath house. She remembered when she was Yachiru's age, and her mother had awkwardly explained to her the differences between males and females. She had been just as excited to grow up and look like all the grown up women in her life as Yachiru was.

"Boys have a penis and girls have a vagina!" Yachiru sang and pushed open the door to the bath, towing a laughing Katsue behind her. "Ken-chan! I found her!"

That caused Katsue to pull up short, her laughter cutting off abruptly as her eyes darted to the last person she wanted to see while she was wrapped in a towel and about to take a bath. Zaraki Kenpachi was lounging lazily in a deep bubble bath, his one black eye staring at her as he flashed her a toothy grin. "So you did," he rumbled in that deep voice of his.

With a squeal of delight, Yachiru took a running start towards the bath. Her towel fell off, and she dumped her bucket of toys just before leaping into the pool, screaming "Cannonball!"

Zaraki only grinned as he watched his small charge plummet into the bath, showering him with soapy water. Katsue placed a small hand on the edge of her towel, unconsciously holding it over her chest as she turned to leave. "Where are you going, Katsue?" his lazy drawl halted her mid step.

"Home," she spoke over her shoulder. Her voice was flat, emotionless, as she tried to hide every sign that she was embarrassed. There was just simply no way in hell she was going to take a bath with _Zaraki_.

"No! Nana-chan!" Yachiru cried and scurried out of the bath, her hair sticking to her head in a bubbly mat. Her small feet slapped against the warm tiles of the bath as she ran to Katsue's side, her hand latching on to hers and tugging her towards the bath. "Take a bath with me, Nana-chan! You're already naked and everything and you always take a bath every day but I never get to take one with you 'cause I only bathe once a month and, and, and!" Yachiru cut off abruptly as she stuck out her bottom lip, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

Katsue looked down at her forlornly. The little devil child was going to throw a tantrum, right here on the tiles, butt naked. And Katsue could never deny that pouty lip, just as she was sure no one in Sereitei could. How could she break Yachiru's heart when she was so set on this? "You only bathe once a month?" she asked the little girl as she turned back to the bath, her eyes locked on Yachiru. If she was going to do this, than she was just going to ignore Zaraki. He seemed a man of relatively few words; it should be rather easy to do.

Yachiru cheered up right away. "Yep!" she smiled and plunged back into the water, calling to Katsue as she bobbed back up.

Cheeks burning, Katsue took a hesitant step down into the water. She could feel Zaraki's eyes on her despite her intentions to ignore him, and when she looked up he was smirking at her. His eyes moved slowly down her leg, lingering on her slender ankle where she had just barely placed her foot in the water. Katsue scowled and stepped in, hurrying to sit down on the underwater bench so that Zaraki had nothing to stare at other than her eyes. "That's not good for you, Yachiru," she grumbled and tore her eyes away from Zaraki.

Yachiru was humming happily as she crawled back out of the water, her small hands snatching up her toys and throwing them into the bath. "It's a habit! Me and Ken-chan didn't get to bathe a lot when we lived in the Rukongai. We're not used to it!"

"You should at least bathe every other day now that you have access to a bath house," Katsue murmured as she reached out her arms to grab Yachiru around the waist. The little girl squealed in delight as Katsue dragged her back into the bath with her, and stood her up on the little bench. "It will help keep your skin clean and pretty, and it'll make sure you don't catch any bed bugs or diseases from dirty places."

Yachiru's faced screwed up as Katsue filled up her wash bucket, and slowly poured water over the little girl's hair. "I hate lice," she grumbled to Katsue. "Those are the worst."

"You won't get them again if you bathe daily, and keep your bedroom clean," Katsue smiled and popped open the cap to her favorite bottle of shampoo. She poured a giant glob right on top of Yachiru's head, much to the girl's delight, before she buried her long fingers into her hair.

"Then we should come to the bath more often, Ken-chan!" Yachiru called out to the older man. Zaraki simply grunted as he watched Katsue's hands massage his little charge's scalp. She worked her hair up into a great foaming lather before, with a giant grin on her delicate face, she dunked the Vice Captain straight under water.

Yachiru flailed and bubbled before she bobbed back to the surface, laughing her head off and splashing at Katsue. He watched Katsue wrestle with the pink-haired girl, trying to get her back onto the bench so that she could administer a bottle of hair conditioner to the girl's head. All she managed was to throw a glob of the thick liquid at the girl's head, before they both went back to laughing and wrestling. The next thing he knew, Yachiru was sailing through the air straight towards him, and landed with a huge splash in the middle of the pool.

"Ken-chan!" she squealed and doggy-paddled towards him, coughing and spitting out soapy water between laughs. "Nana-chan is trying to kill me!"

"Am not," Katsue laughed and lunged for one of Yachiru's feet. The girl screeched as she was dragged backwards through the water, and finally sat still long enough for Katsue to finish washing her hair. She giggled the whole time, occasionally splashing the older woman with soapy water. "There!" Katsue exclaimed as she dunked Yachiru under water one last time. "All clean, Yachi-Yachi!"

"Yay!" Yachiru squealed and wiggled out of her hands, immediately heading towards her toys that either floated or sank in the bath. Katsue watched her for a few minutes, a big smile on her face as Yachiru dove towards the bottom of the bath to fetch one of her toys.

Without another word, Katsue turned her back towards Yachiru and Zaraki. His eyes followed her movements, and watched as she lifted her long arms so that her hands could pick out various pins from the coil of hair she always kept pinned high on her head. Bit by bit, long locks of curly auburn hair fell from its confines to rest against her back. Finally, she ran her hands through her mass of thick hair, gently shaking it all out before she reached for her bucket. It was like a dream, as Zaraki watched her pour water over her head until every inch of her beautiful locks were soaked.

"I didn't know you had curly hair," he spoke up as she applied liberal amounts of shampoo to her mass of hair.

"I don't like to wear it down," Katsue replied sharply, her back still turned towards him. He watched as she bundled her hair up on the top of her head, before massaging her scalp just as she had to Yachiru's.

"You should," he grunted. She cast him a look over her slender shoulder that absolutely smoldered. She looked angry and seducing all at once, if that combination were possible. Maybe it was just because she was technically naked.

"You do have pretty hair, Nana-chan," Yachiru chimed in innocently as she climbed out of the bath to sit on the edge. She was busy playing with a toy horse and a small action figure as she spoke.

"My mother used to braid it for me when I was little," Katsue smiled at Yachiru, once again ignoring the immense presence of Zaraki only feet away. He hadn't moved once since she came into the room, and she was silently thankful for it. She disappeared under water for a moment to rinse the suds out of her hair, and when she came back up Zaraki growled under his breath. Water dripped from every inch of her body, and he couldn't help but watch as a particular rivulet traced the contours of her cheeks, down along her slender neck and onto the planes of her bosom.

"Ken-chan braids my hair sometimes!" Yachiru sang happily. "He puts it in a bunch of tiny little braids when it's wet, so that when I wake up in the morning my hair is all curly like yours!"

Katsue's mouth fell open in surprise as she turned to look at Zaraki. He wasn't smiling as he met her stare for stare. "That's what my mother would do," she said breathlessly.

"You should let Ken-chan braid your hair then," Yachiru said, matter of fact. "He's really good at it. A lot better than Yumichika is!" Zaraki grunted and tore his eyes off of Katsue to stare at his Vice Captain as she made sword noises. She was having her toy horse fight off her action figure, and it was quite clear who was winning: the horse.

They all fell quiet as Katsue finished washing her hair, and Zaraki managed to successfully not stare the entire time. Although he may have peeked when she came back up from under water to rinse her hair again. He couldn't help it.

"Do Ken-chan next, Nana-chan!" Yachiru cried as she noticed Katsue had finally finished. She rushed to grab onto Katsue's hands and drag her through the water towards Zaraki. Katsue had a look of wide-eyed shock on her face that put a grin on Zaraki's lips, before she managed to gather herself and step out of the bath. He stared again as he watched the water drain through her soaked towel and down her slender legs. "Do Ken-chan! Do Ken-chan!"

And, like always, Yachiru plopped down on the tiles behind Zaraki's head and started to unceremoniously rip the bells out of his hair. He didn't even wince as she tugged the first couple out; he was used to her rough treatment of his hair. But when he felt Katsue's hands stop Yachiru's just as she was about to rip out a third, he couldn't help but look over his shoulder at the two of them. Katsue was sitting on the tiles next to Yachiru, her legs folded neatly under her body as she scolded the little Vice Captain.

"You should be gentler with someone else's hair, Yachi-Yachi," she corrected her, and showed her how to properly free the small bronze bells Zaraki kept in his hair. Yachiru watched raptly, before throwing her small weight on top of his head.

"Dive, Ken-chan! Dive!"

And like always, he sank under the water, taking Yachiru with him. He grabbed her the minute he felt her fall into the water on top of him, and immediately started tickling her as he resurfaced. Yachiru was squealing and screaming in his hands as water dripped through his hair and down his face, before she managed to swat him soundly on the head and wriggle out of his grasp. His attention returned back to Katsue as her laughter echoed through the bath, clear and resonating like the sound of bells.

"Can you get me my shampoo, Yachiru?" she was still laughing as the little girl hauled herself out of the water again.

"Use this one!" Yachiru offered as she ran across the room towards a shelf of bath supplies. She took a moment to pick out the same bottles of shampoo and conditioner that she always liked to use on Zaraki, and he sighed as he saw her return to Katsue's side with the bright pink atrocities.

Katsue snorted with laughter as she saw them. Without having to prompt her, Yachiru started to squeeze every last drop of the shampoo from the bottle and on to Zaraki's head. He scowled at the water as a dribble of the disgusting pink stuff dripped down the side of his head. He had to admit to himself that this was not exactly what he had imagined when he thought of Katsue in the same bath as him.

But then her hands were in his hair and on his head, and nothing seemed to really matter anymore. She had a strong, firm touch as she rubbed at his scalp, massaging the stinking shampoo deep into his skin. He relaxed slowly under her touch, his shoulders slouching as he leaned back into her hands. "Feels good, doesn't it?" she murmured softly to him. He answered her with a slight nod as his eyes drooped shut. It felt hella good.

She hesitated as her hands touched the thick leather of his eye patch where it ran through his hair. He didn't think as he reached up and pulled the damned thing off, tossing it somewhere behind him. With a deep sigh he settled back in comfortably, resting his arms along the edge of the bath and leaning his head back onto Katsue's lap. This had to be the most relaxed he had felt since…shit…he didn't know.

"Hey, Nana-chain?" Yachiru's voice was soft as she watched Katsue work on Zaraki's hair. When Katsue looked at her curiously, she went on. "How come you're called 'No Name'?"

Zaraki frowned but didn't bother opening his eyes. It was a question he had been wondering himself, especially after she had yelled at him about her surname. So when he had Ikkaku tell him what kanji Katsue used to spell her name, it was a grand puzzle that he and Yachiru had to solve.

Katsue cleared her throat. "I didn't have a family name before I came to Sereitei and joined the Shinigami Academy. The recruitment officer thought it was a grand joke to call me Nanashi, and so that's what he put on my papers."

"We didn't have names, either," Yachiru's voice was a sad murmur as she buried her small hands into Zaraki's hair, too. "When Ken-chan found me, he gave us names!"

"You're really close to Ken-chan, aren't you?"

Zaraki sighed heavily as he listened to Katsue and Yachiru chatter. It was rare to hear Yachiru talk about their early days together, and even rarer for her to talk about them with anyone other than him. "Dive!" his Vice Captain screeched, and Zaraki opened his eyes to glare up at her.

"Don't wanna," he rumbled as she shoved at his head.

Katsue was looking down at him, her cheeks a bright red as she gazed into the twin depths of his blazing yellow eyes. It was the first time she had ever seen him without his eye patch on, and the first time she had ever seen his reiatsu manifest itself so visibly in his eyes. He looked absolutely magnificent, despite his hair resembling bright pink cotton candy spread out across her lap.

"Dive, Ken-chan!" Yachiru insisted, and with a great sigh Zaraki sunk down into the water. Katsue blinked in surprise as their eye contact broke, and blushed as she looked at the spot where Zaraki had disappeared into the water. She could just make out the blurry shape of him scratching at his scalp under the mass of bubbles that still littered the bath.

"I didn't know he had both his eyes," she whispered to Yachiru at her side.

Yachiru giggled. "Ken-chan wears the eye patch to handicap his reiatsu," she explained absently. "It has little monsters on it that eat it up!"

Katsue swallowed the sudden knot in her throat as that idea sank in. All those times she had felt his reiatsu flare up, and it wasn't even his full power? Dear gods, no wonder he was captain of the Eleventh!

Zaraki shot out of the water, his hands grabbing for Yachiru and dragging her into the bath with him. He growled as Yachiru squealed and laughed, trying to fight off Zaraki's tickling fingers. "Not done yet, Ken-chan!" she gasped between breaths.

His golden eyes darted to Katsue's stunned face before he let Yachiru go. He watched as her gray eyes moved over his face, taking in the sight of his pitch black hair framing his angled face. Scowling, he moved towards the edge of the bath in front of her and eased back onto his perch. For some reason, the way she stared at him with those wide eyes made him conscious of how much he looked like a drowned rat when his hair was like this.

"Your arm is healing nicely," she remarked casually as his head fell back onto her lap. He grunted and closed his eyes, waiting patiently for her to resume that heavenly thing she did to his head. He wasn't disappointed, as she quickly ran her fingers through his hair, spreading the silly pink conditioner through every lock that ran through her fingers. "Does it hurt at all?"

"No," he rumbled deep in his chest.

Suddenly, Katsue's hands left his hair and strayed down his neck, her small fingers tracing the curves of his muscles along his shoulder and down the bicep of his busted arm. He turned his head to watch her hands, not particularly caring what she was doing, but more interested in the fact that she was simply _touching_ him. It felt better than her head massage.

She mumbled something under her breath, and as she flattened her hand over the faint bruise that marked the area of the break in his arm a soft green glow encircled her hand. Her frowned as he watched the bruise slowly fade under her touch, the healing kidou knitting the rest of his bone together. It tingled, almost to the point that it tickled. When she finished, her hand still rested idle on his hot skin. "Sorry," she whispered to him.

Yachiru clapped her hands together gleefully. "You fixed Ken-chan!" she cried out. "But Nana-chan, how come you didn't do it when you first saw him?"

Zaraki glared up at Katsue, that very question sitting on the tip of his tongue as she looked away from him. She was quick as she filled up her wash bucket and gently poured it over Zaraki's head, being careful to avoid getting any of the water in his eyes. He stared at her the whole time, the both of them quiet even as Yachiru kept asking her question over and over again. When she finished, she simply sat there, her hands holding her towel against her chest as her eyes looked at some tile just to the side of Zaraki's head. "So?" he rumbled.

She blushed and gently pushed his head off her lap. Rising slowly to her feet, Katsue took Yachiru by the hand and lead her over to a water tap in the wall. "You should wash off with clean water," she murmured and turned the tap, stepping under the stream of water that fell from the ceiling with Yachiru. Zaraki watched silently as she rinsed every last suds off Yachiru's little body, his Vice Captain giving her a pout the entire time.

"Captain Unohana, huh?" he barked a short laugh as she looked back at him, her cheeks a bright red with a blush. "She's always tellin' her squad not to heal me," he explained before sitting up. He scooped up a handful of Yachiru's nearby toys and deposited them in her pink bucket, before he stood. He was perfectly aware of Katsue's eyes on his body, and he damn well hoped she got a good eyeful.

"Kenpachi!" she gasped and averted her gaze the minute she realized he hadn't been wearing a towel around his waist this whole time.

"Go get dressed, Yachiru," he ordered his Vice Captain. She giggled and slipped out of Katsue's hands, leaving her alone with a butt naked Zaraki. She was fumbling with the water tap as he stepped out of the bath, crossing the short distance between them before she could even get a firm grasp on it. "Ain't nothin' you haven't seen before," his voice was a deep growl as he stepped under the water with her, his firm hands turning her to face him. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she let him back her against the well, her hands darting to hold on to her towel. He laughed, before burying a hand in her hair and drawing her face up towards his. He shocked her with a soft, tender kiss that left her breathless. "Most women would've ignored the water and ran for it, Katsue."

"I should've," she gasped as she remembered to breathe, her eyes opening halfway as she looked up at his burning gold gaze. His chest rumbled with a chuckle as he pressed his body to hers, his massive palms pulling her hands from her towel. "No," she whispered when he went to tug the stupid piece of cloth off. He growled and quickly averted his hands, contenting himself with placing her tiny hands on his bare hips instead.

"Then you do the touchin'," he snarled, one of his hands sinking back into her mass of auburn hair and the other bracing his immense body against the wall behind her. He tilted her face back to his, his kiss hungry as her hands flexed on his hips. All of a sudden her touch was moving on its own, her fingers barely lighting on his searing skin as she trailed them down his hips and the thick muscles of his thighs. His whole body trembled under her touch, his hips grinding into hers in response.

A soft giggle broke both of their attentions. Snarling, Zaraki turned his burning glare onto the small form of Yachiru peaking around the corner of doorway. "Get dressed, squirt," he growled.

Much to his dismay, Katsue managed to wriggle out from under him and she practically ran to Yachiru. She grabbed the small girl on her way out of the bath and pulled her towards the locker room. Zaraki sighed and followed reluctantly, a frown set firmly on his face.

"Ken-chan is at full attention!" Yachiru giggled when she saw him lean in the doorway of the locker room. Katsue was already wearing her pants, and was pulling his kimono around her body when she cast Zaraki a quick glance. Her whole face turned red as she immediately averted her gaze and focused instead on tying her obi.

"What did I tell you about staring, Yachiru?" she said breathlessly as she yanked the knot tight in her obi.

"Not to do it," Yachiru giggled as Katsue picked her up and started to dress her. Zaraki rolled his eyes and sauntered over to the row of cubbies Katsue stood in front of—and by chance, the one where he stowed his own shihakusho. He got dressed slowly, fully enjoying the idea that no matter where she looked she had to look at him. There was just no getting around it unless she grabbed Yachiru and her clothes and made a run for it.

"Did I also tell you that it is proper manners to wear a towel while in a co-ed bath?" she was breathless as she fumbled to get Yachiru into her smallclothes and pants.

"What'd I tell you about modesty, runt?" Zaraki drawled as he took his sweet time pulling his pants up.

"That it's a load of horse shit," Yachiru grinned at him.

Katsue glared at Zaraki, only to find his bare ass straightening out of a bend as he tugged his pants up those delicious hips— "Asshole," she hissed under her breath. Zaraki laughed, a deep husky sound that made her want to rip his pants back off his hips. Instead she concentrated on getting Yachiru's arms into her kimono; the little demon seemed hell bent on making it as hard as possible for her. By the time she finally managed to tie her obi tight, Zaraki was finishing strapping on his sandals.

He leaned against the lockers, smirking as he watched Katsue fumble with Yachiru's own sandals. The woman was in such a rush that she was screwing up and taking much longer with the whole thing. "Need help?" he offered and slipped his arms through his own kimono. He left the huge folds to hang limply from his shoulders, leaving his broad chest and ripped stomach to shine wetly in the dim light of the locker room.

Katsue growled when she finally tied off Yachiru's last sandal. But before she could leave with the little girl, Zaraki scooped Yachiru up onto his neck where she settled in happily. In only a matter of moments she was asleep, her small hands fisted in his hair and her head leaning against his. Zaraki followed Katsue as she left the bath house, heading straight back to her quarters. He was walking slowly, calmly, his long legs eating up the distance Katsue fought to put between them.

"You are incorrigible," she huffed as he fell in beside her.

"Thank you," he grinned down at her.

"It's not a compliment!"

"I take great pride in being unmanageable," he chuckled. "What're you mad for? You seemed to be havin' a great evening. You didn't slap me once."

She punched him in the arm. As he roared with laughter, she fumed angrily by his side. She was so busy being angry at him that she didn't notice him move at first. But then she noticed her pace slow as the heavy weight of his arm fell across her shoulders. "Kenpachi, if you don't get your hands off of me—"

"That's the third time tonight you've called me that," his voice was a rumbling purr as his pace slowed to a casual walk. She was forced to walk at his pace thanks to his well placed arm. "I like it," her bent to growl in her ear. She shivered despite her best interests, and he rumbled with another deep laugh. "When you go to bed tonight, Katsue," he purred, his lips brushing shamelessly against her ear before he placed a soft bite at the part where her neck met her jaw. She gasped, her body leaning into his as he pulled her close. "Dream about me," he growled, crushed his lips to hers in a quick kiss, and before she could recover her balance he was gone.

"Damn it, Zaraki!" she cursed at the empty air where he had stood as she stumbled to catch herself before she could fall. She could barely hear his loud laughter somewhere in the night, wherever he had managed to use the Shunpo technique to get himself.

That night, while she struggled to get comfortable in the cold blankets of her bed roll, she couldn't manage to get her mind off of him. Particularly the delicious sight of him standing up out of the bath, water dripping in tasty rivulets down his tan, muscular body and across the thick length that had stood out proudly from his groin. The memory of his bare ass bent over in front of her ran a close second after that.

* * *

I suppose Zaraki is getting back at her for the last two times she left him standing. I need to hit the drawing board and draw that last tastey bit involving Zaraki in the bath...

Feedback. Give it. Nao pleez.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 5/?  
Rating: MA for smut and language.  
Warnings: Coarse language, adult inuendo, violence (gasp!).  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. I am forever the slave to his world. Nanashi Katsuo is mine.  
A/N: I think I love this chapter. It's long, and simple, but oh so sweet.

* * *

Katsue was flat out pissed, that was the only way Zaraki could put it. She was pissed, she was mad, she was angry, she was _magnificent_. The way her eyes seemed to roil like a cloudy gray storm as she looked from one laughing face to the next. The way her full lips set into a straight line as her long, delicate hand went to the hilt of her zanpakutou. He was nearly sitting on the edge of his seat, perched on the back porch of his headquarters, just waiting for the fateful moment that she would draw her sword.

"Who did it?" her voice was quiet, firm, and Zaraki knew she was definitely pissed. When she was only answered with more laughter from the ramshackle crew of Shinigami that were loitering in the courtyard, she let out a low snarl. "I said who did it?" she barked.

Zaraki grinned as he turned his golden eyes towards the front door of her little clinic; he hadn't had time to make it back to the bath house to retrieve his eye patch, and he was quiet enjoying the effect his eyes had on his subordinates. Not to mention Katsue. But now, his intimidating gaze took in the row of kanji that marred Katsue's door frames in bright blue paint—the same paint she had used to paint her room upstairs. Whichever one of his men decided that it was a good idea to write 'Doctor Pussy' on her door was going to be in for a beating of his lifetime.

He couldn't wait.

"Pft, what're you gonna do, Nana-chan?" Ikkaku drawled from where he lounged lazily beside Zaraki, his own hands stroking the hilt of his zanpakutou. He was grinning like a hungry wolf, no doubt picking up on the tension in Zaraki's own body as they both waited to see what would unfold. "You're all bark, no bite."

His words set the gathered Shinigami to laughing again. Katsue's delicate eyebrows furrowed in a scowl as she turned her stormy gaze onto Ikkaku. "That look is so ugly," Yumichika chided. "Women shouldn't have such a look on their face. It will cause wrinkles."

That did it; Zaraki crowed happily to himself as Katsue stormed across the courtyard, her intent clearly settled on Ikkaku and Yumichika. Snarling, she grabbed them both by an ear and yanked them from their perches. "Do not taunt me, you bastards!" she yelled as she dragged them, kicking and screaming, over to her front door. "Clean it up!" she hissed and practically threw them by their ears against the graffiti covered door.

"You little bitch!" Ikkaku snarled as he finally found his footing. He was rubbing the side of his head with one hand, his other drawing his zanpakutou in a smooth motion. "I'll fuckin' teach you who you're messin' with!" He charged her without a second thought, and Zaraki was about to step in when Katsue delivered another surprise.

Without seeming to think, she lithely stepped past Ikkaku's attacking zanpakutou, her small hands latching on to his wrist, and with barely a hint of effort she threw him over her knee. And right into the crowd of gawking Shinigami. "What was that?" she snapped and turned to face the writhing mass of Shinigami as they struggled to untangle from Ikkaku's screaming fury.

"Aikido, huh?" Zaraki rumbled with laughter as Yachiru sat forward in his lap.

"What's that, Ken-chan?" she smacked his knee to get his attention.

"Just watch, runt," he grinned down at her as she looked over her shoulder at him.

"Lucky shot!" Ikkaku snarled as he finally managed to extract himself from his squad mates. His entire face was red now, whether from embarrassment at being thrown so easily or from anger, Zaraki couldn't tell. But then he charged her again like an idiot, and Katsue simply dodged, grabbed the front of his kimono, and used his own momentum to throw him to the ground.

"You will learn," Katsue growled as she pressed one sandaled foot to Ikkaku's wrist to keep him from raising his zanpakutou, "that I am not to be trifled with." Her other foot pressed down on his throat, silencing his angry rebuttals as he glared up at her. "Now tell me who did it."

Ikkaku spit in the dirt. "Hell if I know."

Zaraki roared with laughter as Katsue set into the group of Shinigami, dragging them one by one towards her little clinic and putting them to work at doing some odd job. Each time one tried to run off she would intercept them, all growling, glaring, roiling fury and smack them upside their heads. By the time the whole troupe resigned themselves to their fate, she had Ikkaku and Yumichika scrubbing away at the paint on her door while another duo swept dirt off her porch. She had three more toiling away in the dirt at the sides of her clinic, pulling weeds and turning the earth for lord knows what.

"And when you're all done there," she barked, "you're helping me move my furniture from my old place!"

Zaraki just barely made out Ikkaku calling her a rather crude name under his breath, and he received a swat to the head for his rebellion. "Oi, Katsue, they're warriors, not maids!" he laughed as every one of his men looked up from their jobs just long enough to give him a miserable look.

Katsue on the other hand shot him a glare before stomping across the courtyard towards him. "Uh-oh," Yachiru squeaked and leapt from Zaraki's lap. "Run, Ken-chan!" she squealed and did just that—her little feet thudding against the wooden porch as she ran for the safety of her office.

He held his ground though, grinning wolfishly as Katsue came to a halt in front of him. He was momentarily amused to see that she was just barely on eye level with him, even though he was sitting and she was standing. It was cute, though, the way she tried to stare him down. "You are no help, Kenpachi," she sighed suddenly, her squared shoulders relaxing as she gave him a cross look. "You should teach them their manners."

"You're doing a good enough job," he rumbled and raked his eyes over her, fully aware that it always made her blush. He wasn't disappointed. "You gotta earn their respect yourself, Katsue," he chuckled as she looked away from him, her cheeks a bright red. "They ain't like those runts in your squad, who do anything someone of a higher rank tells 'em to. They'll bust their ass off for ya the minute you prove you're not a pushover. Which you're doing a terrible job at."

She shot him a glare. "They seem to be cleaning quite well," she reminded him calmly.

"You can throw any of them a hundred times with those aikido tricks of yours," he smirked as she finally moved to his side, sitting down slowly on the warm wood beside him. "But until you use that stick strapped to your hip you won't get very far."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, a frown firmly on her lips. "I haven't used it to fight in…ages."

"You Fourth Squad pansies don't fight," he corrected her with a throaty laugh. "You run, dodge, and use that aikido crap to wuss out of an attack. Who the hell ever heard of a warrior being worried about the well being of his attacker? What a load of shit."

"Captain Unohana has trained us to have a reverence for the life of our fellows," Katsue sniffed and folded her arms across her bosom, much to Zaraki's delight. Every time she did it the movement pushed her breasts up, and it made an excellent line of cleavage he could just barely see around the folds of her kimono. "We are medics, not killers."

"Explains why your lot is always in the back lines in battle," he turned a broad grin on her as he watched her prickled pride make itself manifest. She was purposely sitting taller, trying to make herself look bigger than she really was as she puffed out her chest—and her breasts. "I bet your guys get killed a lot trying to throw hollows over their knees."

"Not all of Fourth Squad is incompetent in the field," she snapped. "And not all of us believe so avidly in the lessons that Captain Unohana teaches us all. You will find some that take great joy in confronting a hollow every now and then. But in the end, we all answer to the call from our comrades to insure that none die unnecessarily to wounds that are treatable."

"And which one are you, Katsue?" his voice was a low growl as he leaned towards her, his thick muscled arm just barely touching her slender shoulder as he brushed her with his sleeve. He watched the blush color her cheeks as she turned to look at him, her lips parted ever so slightly. "You're too damn aggressive just to be a practitioner of aikido," he murmured.

She gave him a cross look.

"Way I see it, you're just a wolf in sheep's clothing," he drawled lazily and slowly shifted his weight, so that he was sitting closer to her. He was absolutely elated when she didn't move away the moment his hip touched hers. "You're preachin' about all this crap, yet you always seem so tempted to draw that sword of yours. And you were in my squad, maybe not under me," at that he paused, giving her a toothy grin as he let his eyes smolder down at hers, "but that's gotta mean somethin'. Bein' a member of the squad that always takes the front line…that requires a passion for violence." When she opened her mouth to protest, he silenced her with a short bark of laughter. "Ah-ah, Katsue, you said yourself you left 'cause of momma, not 'cause you hated the violence. To hell with that, if you ask me."

"Are you saying I should ignore a dying woman's wishes?" she narrowed her stormy eyes at him.

"I'm sayin' that anyone's mom would be happy for their child if they found somethin' that makes them happy," he purred to her. "Wouldn't that make you happier? Knowin' that as long as you were happy, she's happy?"

"I _was_ happy," she snorted, "before you had my ass transferred out here."

"Bullshit," he chuckled. "There's a difference between just livin' and bein' happy while you're doin' it. I bet you're like half of Soul Society, just doin' what they need to to get by, waitin' for somethin' big to happen to change their lives forever. Well, sorry to tell you, but you'll be disappointed if you never leave your clinic."

"I prefer to think that I already found my life's calling," she grumbled under her breath and looked down at her lap. She folded her dainty hands in front of her and seemed absorbed at watching the light on her skin.

"I'll tell you a secret," he rumbled as he leaned down towards her, his mouth only mere inches from her ear. "If you're happier in your dreams, you ain't happy when you're awake. What've you been dreamin' 'bout, Katsue? Releasin' that zanpakutou of yours for once?" his mouth drew closer, breathing warm puffs of air against her neck and ear. She shivered ever so slightly, before he growled, "Dreamin' about me?"

Katsue's face turned scarlet as she shot to her feet, her back ramrod straight as she marched across the courtyard towards her recruited help. "Oi! Yumichika! Quit being scared of dirt and clean that up!"

Zaraki roared with laughter as he settled back on his spot, content to watch his angry tigress yell at his own men for him.

**XXXX**

There was something different in the air. Katsue couldn't name it as she stepped out of her clinic and onto her gleaming clean porch. The air didn't feel the way it usually did as she looked around in the night. Lights were on in the courtyard that were typically kept dark, and it cast every Shinigami gathered there into bright relief. There was a quiet excitement humming through each and every one of them as they silently shifted from foot to foot, milling around as if they were waiting for something.

Zaraki emerged from his headquarters, glaring angrily at the small adjutant from the First Squad that walked at his side. He was tugging his haori on over his shihakusho, covering up the faint black mark of a seal that marred his broad chest. The adjutant practically fled from him the minute his feet were on the dirt of the courtyard, and Zaraki's squad laughed at his retreat.

"Alright, you pansies," he barked sharply, and immediately his entire squad fell to attention. Even the pretentious Ikkaku stood straight as his eyes focused on only his captain. Katsue watched, mesmerized, as Zaraki cast an all encompassing look over his squad. Without a word he pulled his eye patch back on over his right eye, settling it firmly in place. "Katsue!" he barked without even looking her way.

Without thinking she snapped to attention where she stood, knowing full well that Zaraki was in full captain mode.

Slowly his single eye turned to hers, and he grinned like a giant stray wolf. "You're comin' with us tonight. Get your field shit."

She bowed slightly before ducking back into her clinic, her hands fumbling in the dark as she grabbed her field bag from under one of her new counters. Captain Unohana would've been appalled with her, she thought as she hastily threw bags of supplies and jars of healing salves into her bag. To think that she hadn't had a field kit put together and ready to go! She should've known better— "Shit," she cursed as she stood straight, looking back over her shoulder towards the court yard. The field. She was going in to the field. For the first time in…oh shit.

"Hurry up, Nana-chan!" Yachiru cried as she came rushing into the clinic, her eyes bright and wide as she smiled up at Katsue. "Hurry, hurry, hurry!"

"What's going on?" Katsue was breathless as she grabbed her sewing kit, double checking that she had ample amounts of thread and sterile needles.

"There's a report of a group of Ajuukaru class hollows in the real world!" the little girl's voice bubbled with excitement. "We're gonna go save Strawberry's ass!"

Katsue nearly dropped her kit as she stared at the small Vice Captain, her mouth shamelessly open wide. "Ajuukaru!"

"Yep! Ken-chan is so excited! He hasn't had a challenge like that since…since…well I don't know!" Yachiru sang and grabbed Katsue's hand, shamelessly tugging the much larger woman back outside.

Zaraki was waiting for them in the now empty courtyard, his whole body trembling with excitement as he grinned at Katsue. "Unohana is sending a squad from the Fourth; they'll meet us on the other side. I'm puttin' 'em under your command, Katsue."

She swallowed the knot in her throat before nodding. She was too stunned to do much of anything else, and Yachiru was still tugging her forward. Before she could regain control of her feet, Zaraki's arms were around her and she was moving through the air. He deposited her unceremoniously on his back, with Yachiru beside her. The little girl squealed as Zaraki ran, his feet eating up the distance as the world sailed by them in a blur. All Katsue could do was hang on, and bark out a 'right' or 'left' when Zaraki would ask her for direction.

"Ken-chan gets lost a lot!" Yachiru crowed in explanation. She was stretching out, grinning into the wind that blew her hair over her shoulders. Katsue could feel Zaraki's body vibrate with a low growl, before he ran straight through the Soul Gate.

As darkness enveloped them, Katsue buried her face against Zaraki's back. She was trying not to think of what lay on the other side—the real world and the Ajuukaru hollows. She was scared witless.

"The fightin's already started," Zaraki rumbled. "You stick close to me, squirt. And Katsue, try not to get in anyone's way."

She squeaked a reply and buried her face deeper against his back, breathing in his masculine smell. She didn't look up until she felt the air change around her—and she found herself falling through the air on Zaraki's back.

Yachiru screamed happily, her small arms flailing in the air as wind ripped and whipped at their clothing. Katsue's eyes were wide as she stared at the ground far bellow them, and the tall peaks of buildings as they rushed up to meet them. Zaraki landed with a crack of concrete in the middle of a wide road, and before Katsue could even catch her breath he was running again.

"Where's the largest reiatsu?" he barked over his shoulder as he ran down one abandoned street after the next. "Katsue!" he snapped.

"Left!" she replied automatically as her subconscious picked out the trail of the most powerful reiatsu she had ever felt, besides Zaraki's. Several smaller reiatsu were flaring to life around the central star, and Katsue was shocked to pick up the tell tale patterns of the Sixth Squad's Vice Captain, Abarai Renji. "Left!" she yelled again as Zaraki came to a four-way street.

The moment he turned, Katsue's jaw dropped open. It was absolute chaos, that was the only way she could put it. The largest hollow she had ever seen towered in the middle of what seemed to be a park, screaming and howling as it assaulted a small force darting in and around its feet. She picked up the faintest spark of color—a bright orange streak as a Shinigami assaulted the thing head on.

"Where's Ikkaku?" Zaraki growled.

"About a mile to the north," she whispered, her eyes still locked on the battle in front of her. "The whole squad is with him. There's…three Ajuukaru and several lesser hollows."

Zaraki paused as he glowered at the sight of the small group of Shinigami that were battling the hollow in front of him. He particularly focused on the streak of orange, his body trembling. Cursing, he started running again, taking a wide berth around the battle. "Don't die, Kurosaki!" he bellowed as he leapt to a roof top.

"Shove it, Zaraki!" the orange-haired Shinigami roared back, before his zanpakutou bit deep into the leg of the hollow.

"Bye, Strawberry!" Yachiru called out, waving her small hands. "We'll leave you the small fries!"

"That was Kurosaki Ichigo?" Katsue gasped as she twisted around on Zaraki's back, trying to get a better glimpse of the ryoka that had broken in to Sereitei only months ago. He was a living legend in the Fourth Squad, especially after the tales Hanatarou told about him.

Zaraki grunted.

"The one that…?" she turned her wide eyes towards the back of Zaraki's head. He glowered at her over his shoulder.

"I could whoop his ass any day of the week," he growled.

"Right," she whispered.

"Damn straight I'm right!"

"I meant turn right!" she yelled as he skidded to a halt in his sudden change of direction. He was growling and snarling underneath her as he corrected his course.

"Got 'em," he grinned and drew his zanpakutou.

"Bail!" Yachiru squealed and leapt from Zaraki's back. Katsue was a second behind her, landing lightly on the rooftop as Zaraki leapt straight into the fray, Yachiru's little pink head bobbing after him.

Men were screaming. The sound of zanpakutou clashing rang through the night. And in front of her lay the biggest battle Katsue had seen since she had left the Eleventh Squad.

"Ma'am!" a group of Shinigami she recognized from her own squad appeared around her, their chests heaving as they fought to catch their breath. She was shocked to see Hanatarou among them, his hair frazzled as he looked intently at her. "Orders?"

"Get the wounded out of there," she barked. "Fall back two miles to the west out of the area before treatment. Stay away from those hollow and the first assault team! Hanatarou, you're with me."

They all barked in confirmation before they disappeared, reappearing in the middle of the field. Katsue watched for a moment as one tall Shinigami picked up a man with a torn gut before he disappeared again. Taking a deep breath, Katsue said a quick prayer to the gods before she flash stepped into chaos.

_Keep moving, keep moving, keep moving_, she repeated to herself as she and Hanatarou ran from one group of Shinigami to the next. They stopped only long enough to apply healing balms to shallow wounds before the men they helped leapt back into battle, yelling their battle cries and brandishing their zanpakutou. Kidou blasts went off all around her, showering the field in falling debris and hollow blood.

"Man down to the south!" Hanatarou cried out from her side, and they moved together as Katsue adjusted their path to head for the screaming man. Katsue cursed over and over as she knelt by his side, holding her hand tight against the hole in his chest as she slung his arm over her shoulder. Hanatarou grabbed his other arm, before they both flash stepped to the spot she had reserved as their field hospital.

They emerged in a field of screaming and dying men. She hurried as she gently set the man her and Hanatarou carried down on a clear patch of grass, and slung her bag down on the ground beside her. He shoved a convenient stick in the man's mouth, muffling his screams of pain, before they both went to work on the wound in his chest. "Get the disinfectant," she ordered as she placed her hands over the flowing blood. She could hear sucking sounds coming from the hole as the man breathed. "I can only knit his lung back together," she gasped as Hanatarou fumbled through her bag. She murmured the incantation for her healing kidou under her breath, her eyes locked on the wound so that she didn't have to stare into the gaping eyes of the man as he slowly bled to death.

"I'll take over from there, Katsue-san," Hanatarou was breathless as he cleaned out the wound, even as flesh slowly pulled itself together as he did. It seemed like an eternity as they sat there, racing fate to save the man's life. Only when his breathing came even and strong, and his screams faded to moans in his throat, did Katsue cut off the flow of her kidou.

"I'll be back," she told Hanatarou, before she returned back to the battle at hand.

She had to dodge a falling hollow limb as she reappeared in the middle of the fray, heading directly for a duo of her fellow healers as they leaned over yet another screaming man. She took one look at him, before knowing that he was a lost cause. "Move him!" she screamed at her charges. The number one rule when in the field was to move the man first, before tending to him, no matter how near death he was. "Move!"

"But he'll die!" the young woman that kneeled over him screamed back. She was crying as she struggled to tear out a shard of a broken zanpakutou from the man's chest.

"I said move!" and just as the words left her mouth, Katsue caught the sight of a giant red beam heading their way. Without thinking she grabbed the woman's shoulder, hauling her out of the way as she ran. The backlash from the Cero as it blew apart the ground they had stood on only moments before pushed them both into the ground. The woman screamed, and Katsue looked over her shoulder in horror. All that remained of the second medic and the dying Shinigami was a pile of steaming flesh. "Learn from that," she growled to the woman beside her, before hauling them both to their feet.

The girl still cried as she followed Katsue, tears pouring down her round cheeks as they found another wounded soldier. Katsue tried not to stare into the eyes of a face she recognized—of one of the men she had pulling weeds in her garden only hours ago. He was losing blood fast, and by the time she and the bawling woman had made it back to the field of wounded, he was gone.

Katsue cursed, her eyes darting over the field as she counted the number of still bodies. Half of them. Nearly half of the fourteen men were all dead.

Her zanpakutou hummed at her waist.

"A buffet!" a loud, booming voice laughed far over her head. Katsue swirled around, only to find herself staring up into the stark white mask of a hollow. The thing laughed again, before plunging a gigantic fist down towards a screaming man. Katsue moved without thinking, her zanpakutou flashing as she drew it and brought it around to block the fist. She grunted at the impact, her feet sinking into the ground as she stood over the Shinigami that almost became hollow food.

"Get them out of here!" she screamed over her shoulder at the gaping faces of her small team of medics. She didn't have to tell them again, as each one of them stooped to grab onto a patient. Even the crying woman managed to escape with one of the wounded men.

"Stupid woman," the hollow growled before withdrawing its fist, readying another attack.

Katsue's feet moved as her body remembered what she had been trained to do, hundreds of years ago. Her hands gripped her zanpakutou, the hilt trembling with power in her grip. Without thinking, Katsue dodged the next incoming fist, her blade flashing through the clear night air and lobbing the whole fist off at the wrist.

The hollow screamed as black blood spurted from its wound, his balance momentarily thrown off as he fell forward onto his remaining hand. Teeth snapped at her as his head swept around towards her, but Katsue was already slipping easily under the jaw and charging. Snarling, she flicked her wrists and felt a wonderful feeling run up her arm from her zanpakutou as it bit through flesh and bone. She met only a moment's resistance as her sword caught on the hollow's vertebrae, before cutting cleanly through the rest of the creature's neck. It fell silently, its massive form almost squashing her before she could jump over its already decaying body.

Her eyes flashed as she spotted the next hollow, a large, man-like creature that wielded a sword reminiscent of a zanpakutou. A growl ripped from her throat as she ran across the blood soaked ground, her entire focus on that one hollow. "Roar, Mouko Shuurajo!" she cried out and ran her free hand along the blade of her zanpakutou, her fingers tingling as the resonating reiatsu lashed out. The blade changed under her touch, sharp, serrated teeth spiking up and down the blade as the hand guard furled out to cover her lead hand.

The hollow turned to her, his mask set in a permanent grin, and swung. Her blade caught his, bright sparks falling to the ground as the blades ground together. Grunting as she slipped the hollow's sword to her side, Katsue leapt straight for the grinning mask. "Too slow!" the hollow laughed and latched a massive hand around her ankle. With a surge of muscle the creature threw her to the ground, her back slamming into the earth hard enough to knock the wind out of her.

Rolling just in time to avoid the down slash of the hollows' sword, Katsue struggled to her feet. She gasped for breath even as she slipped easily back into her fighting stance, and she waited. The hollow assaulted her over and over again, moving faster than her eyes could track. But each time she narrowly dodged a fist or blocked a sword strike. Then, as if an alarm rang in her head, Katsue saw her opening: a narrow path to the side and over the hollow's thin arm. Snarling, she leapt straight at the thing, the wind of its passing arm as it missed her blowing her clothes around her slender frame.

Her blade met flesh just as the hollow landed a sound punch to her side. Coughing up blood, Katsue leapt for the relative safety of the ground just behind the thrashing hollow. All she had managed was a jagged slash right across the thing's mask. Visions flashed through her head as she heaved to catch her breath, her roiling gray eyes glaring at the long, serpent like tail that protruded from the hollow's rear. All she could see were the eyes of the dying men she had just left. The sound of their screams. Their pleas for help as they clung to her or her medics. In particular, the face of that nameless Shinigami that had grudgingly pulled weeds for her hovered in her mind.

She screamed, running along the wriggling lines of the tail. Mouko Shuurajo sang in her hands as she swung it through the air. And with a furious growl she plunged it into the thick flesh and muscle directly at the base of the hollow's skull. It screamed and writhed, and she hung on for dear life as she kept wrenching her zanpakutou around in its flesh. The hollow fell slowly, the life draining from it as black blood gushed from its wound. Katsue barely managed to maintain her balance as it dropped face-first into the dirt. Snarling like a feral cat she cut and slashed and stabbed at the damned thing's head and neck, not caring whether or not she was doing harm or—

A massive fist latched onto her forearm, halting her mid swing. "No!" she cried out and tried to wrench herself free, her whole body going into the motion.

"It's dead," a deep voice rumbled, but she couldn't see who spoke. She couldn't see past the visions of her dead comrades.

"It's not dead enough!" she screamed as her eyes locked on to the black mess she was so intent on massacring. She wanted to rip every last piece of flesh from the damned creature's flesh.

"It's dead, Katsue," the voice rumbled into her ear, and a giant bulk pressed in around her. She was trembling as she let that voice speak soothing words to her, her eyes wide and locked onto the hollow corpse. "Focus," the voice purred, "you still have a job to do."

Her arm fell limply to her side as the strong grip that held it let go. The searing hot touch moved to cup her chin, and gently forced her head around. Katsue was breathing harshly as she stared up into the burning yellow eyes of Zaraki Kenpachi, a grim grin on his face. "A job?" she whispered as his eyes chased away the visions of the dead.

He gestured with his head towards a group of Shinigami that waited a hundred yards away. "Yumichika lost a tooth. He won't quit bitchin' about it."

Katsue nodded slightly, her head turning to follow his gesture. She felt dizzy all of a sudden as she looked across the bloody battle field towards the large group of Eleventh Squad's finest. They were all bloodied and worse for wear as they watched her, Ikkaku's bald head shining at the front. "Okay," she whispered.

Zaraki was silent as he climbed down from the back of the hollow before turning around, his massive hands latching onto her waist as he lifted her down to the ground. She stumbled as her feet met hard earth, her hands latching onto his torn haori. Hanatarou suddenly appeared at her side, wringing his hands nervously as he looked her over.

"Katsue-kun, are you okay?" his voice was full of worry and concern as he reached out hesitantly to help steady her on her feet. As if his words were magic, Katsue suddenly felt all the tolls of her injuries as her throat tightened. Her ribs were screaming at her, and she found it terribly hard to breath.

"Bruise balm," she gasped as her hands went to clutch her stomach. She didn't need to prompt Hanatarou again, as he immediately dug through the field kit he had slung over his shoulder and produced a heavenly jar of her favorite salve. Hands trembling, she struggled to loosen the tie to her obi, only to have Zaraki's massive hands knock hers to the side. He was quick as he ripped out the knot, his searing hot touch parting her kimono to expose her aching stomach and sides. Shamelessly, Katsue leaned her body against Zaraki's hard chest as she struggled to steady her breathing. She was almost panicking as she sucked at the air for breath, her body screaming its need for oxygen. Hanatarou was silent as he applied a thick layer of the balm to her sides.

"What's wrong with her?" Zaraki's voice was a low growl far over Katsue's head.

"A broken rib or two," Hanatarou replied automatically, before he belatedly added a "sir!"

Grunting, Zaraki tugged her kimono back tightly around her small body before he tied her obi into a crude knot. "I'm takin' her to Unohana."

"No," Katsue gasped and pushed at Zaraki's chest, slowly righting herself as she gained her breath and her balance. "I'm fine," she reassured Zaraki as he scowled at her. "I'm fine," she repeated, before taking confident steps towards the area she had left a plethora of wounded men and dead bodies. Zaraki followed at her heels, his body so close that she felt like he was preparing to catch her if she suddenly lost her footing.

"We lost one in the evacuation," Hanatarou ran to keep up with her. "We managed to get eight out in after the first attack, and the rest after you engaged the hollow. All that's left is…" his voice fell silent as Katsue halted in her tracks. He looked away from the carnage in front of them, even as Katsue stared.

Eight bodies littered the field she had reserved for her med team. Three she recognized. "How many others?" she whispered over her shoulder to Zaraki.

"Three left on the field," he grumbled automatically.

That made twelve fatalities total, including her lost medic. How many of them could she have saved, if she had worked a little faster? If she had been prepared to go into the field? How many could her team have saved if they were properly trained to handle this sort of thing?

She squeezed her eyes shut, a deep anger welling up to battle the sorrow she felt. "Take me home, Kenpachi," she whispered past clenched teeth as she struggled not to cry. He didn't question her, and simply scooped her up in his arms. She shamelessly hid her face against the sweaty folds of his kimono, her small fists latching onto him as he ran towards the Soul Gate they had come in from. She ignored the sound of more Shinigami falling into step behind him, and Yachiru's little whimper of concern as she hopped onto Zaraki's back. She didn't cry until the darkness of the Soul Gate surrounded them.

* * *

I'm planning on making a shift to focus more on Zaraki from here out, we'll see how it works. I just enjoy developing Katsue as a character a little too much. I like how I've been writing him so far though...with him making little passive gestures that are almost flirtatious. *cackle* You'll see soon enough.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 6/?  
Rating: MA for smut and language.  
Warnings: Coarse language, adult situations.  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. I am forever the slave to his world. Nanashi Katsuo is mine.  
A/N: *cackles madly*

* * *

Zaraki Kenpachi growled low under his breath as another young Shinigami from the Fourth Squad eased out of Katsue's front door and hedged around him. The scrawny whelp was practically sweating as he made a wide berth around Zaraki's perch on her front porch, his eyes averted lest he draw unwanted attention from Zaraki. It was too late, Zaraki growled as his hand flexed on the hilt of his zanpakutou. The minute the runt took one step out of her door, he was the target of Zaraki's wrath.

It was stupid, he knew, but he didn't particularly care at the moment. Katsue's squad mates had been making periodic stops into her clinic since the night Zaraki had brought her back from the confrontation with the Ajuukaru, and he had become quite accustomed to being stupid. It was the fact that he hadn't seen her since that night that had him pissed off and sitting here during every moment he was able to. She had been blatantly ignoring him when he'd pound on her door or shout for her to come out, and hadn't left her clinic except in the early hours of the morning when he was knocked out cold in sleep. Why she was accepting visitors like that scrawny male from her own squad, but not Zaraki, was beyond him.

"Captain?" Zaraki was still glowering as his attention turned to the nervous group of new recruits to his own squad. At their front was a tall, lanky man with greasy black hair; nothing special, Zaraki concluded as the man wringed his hands nervously. "Is there anything we can do?"

Young recruits, Zaraki growled, were terribly annoying. They were so eager to impress him. "Go fucking fight each other," he snarled and watched in mild contentment as they saluted him right away, before running off towards the middle of the court yard and breaking into pairs. They were sloppy as they slipped into their battle stances, but Zaraki didn't care. He wasn't really watching them; his mind was on the woman that hid in the house behind him.

He ignored Yachiru's soft sigh at his side, and resumed glowering and glaring at anything that moved within his line of sight. His young Vice Captain was growing impatient with his constant vigil outside Katsue's door, and now resigned herself to waiting with him only when she could find nothing else to keep her busy. So far he had several members of his squad come complaining to him about the degree of pranks she took up to entertain herself, but again, he didn't care.

He wanted to know why the hell Katsue was suddenly shutting him out of her life so suddenly. The temptress had seemed as if she was finally coming to terms with the fact that she was his, and nobody else's. Yet here he was, scorned and jealous as he scared off every male that dared to come near her clinic, and she didn't seem to be taking any notice. He was doing a damn good job, too, he thought. There wasn't a single face that he saw twice among the ranks of the Fourth Squad. Male or female. Not even scrawny Hanatarou had made himself seen around the Eleventh Squad Headquarters since Zaraki sent him packing that crazy night.

Scowling, Zaraki's mind idly wandered as he watched his new recruits swing their zanpakutou around as if they knew what they were doing. They lacked any semblance of skill and competence, so much unlike Katsue. He just couldn't stop thinking about the moment he turned from killing an Ajuukaru, only to see Katsue _fighting_. He had hoped like no tomorrow that he would eventually get her to use that zanpakutou of hers, but to have it happen so soon! He was elated.

And then he was breathless as he watched her fierce beauty. She was the epitome of female rage as she fought; her lean body silhouetted against the star lit sky as she snarled like a feral tigress during her attack. She moved beautifully, gracefully, as if she were a sword dancer instead of a bumbling healer. The satisfaction he saw in her face as she decapitated the first hollow had him snarling in approval and racing towards her, eager like a buck in heat to join her fearsome dance.

He had been ready to rip the second hollow she fought limb from limb when he watched it, still too far away to help, throw her into the ground. But like the strong beauty he knew she was, she had easily recovered from the blow and faced it with a calm determination that he wished all his troops possessed. When she moved in for the kill, her pale skin blemished with splashes of black hollow blood, he had never seen her look more beautiful. Her zanpakutou absolutely glowed under her touch, a bright, burning red that illuminated her face like the fires from hell. And she seemed to be a creature of those dark pits of seduction as she struck again and again, her sword quickly eating away at the flesh of the hollow. Even when the beast was dead she still attacked, snarling like a feral cat.

He had called out to her, trying to bring her back to reality. He had seen many men go into a bloodlust under his command—hell, he was partial to bits of violence-induced insanity himself. But the look on her face as she mutilated the corpse under her feet… She had lost herself to whatever visions danced before her eyes, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let that happen. Her body was trembling when he wrapped his arms around her; even her sword arm visibly shook before he could grab hold of it. And still she tried to fight a nonexistent enemy! He wanted to get her away from whatever was making her act so wildly—he wanted to protect her from the demons she saw.

Zaraki snapped back to the present as Yachiru prodded him in the ribs with a bony finger. She was pouting full force as she looked up at him, her eyes watery and threatening him with a tantrum. "Ken-chan," she sniffled, but fell quiet when he patted her on her head. She had tried pouting and crying several times during the week, and she had quickly learned that he was in no mood for succumbing to her manipulative ways.

Zaraki's head snapped around on his neck as he heard the lock to Katsue's door click, and the paper door slowly slid open on its track. Eyes narrowed in a silent scowl, Zaraki watched as Katsue peered out of the door to look at him. Her gray eyes were clouded and emotionless, before she gave him a slight nod.

Wordlessly he climbed to his feet, giving Yachiru one last head pat before he pushed Katsue's door wide open. He stepped in as she turned and climbed a set of stairs far to the back of the exam room, her bare feet silent on the wood. Snarling quietly he eased the door shut behind him and followed her. He had a few things on mind to say to her, none of which were very kind.

He momentarily lost sight of her as she disappeared on the landing of the second floor, but his options on where to go were limited. There were only two rooms, and a small bath room. A door creaked on its hinges, and Zaraki stalked into a pale sea-green room. Katsue stood quietly in front of a small work desk, her head hanging on her shoulders as she stared at her feet. He sighed at the pitiful look on her face as it chased off all the rude things he was about to say. She seemed to pick up on the easing of his anger, and rushed forward to press her small body against his.

Gods, he growled as he wrapped his thick arms around her small frame, he had missed feeling her against him. "What the hell have you been doing?" he rumbled into her soft hair. She was wearing it loose, the thick auburn curls hiding her from him. He breathed in deep, savoring her earthy scent. The blasted woman had remembered that he liked her hair down, and no doubt thought it would help her case.

"I need you to vouch for me," she replied immediately, her voice still void of emotion as she looked up at him.

His brows furrowed as he eyed her in a long moment of silence. What did she mean by vouch? The only time someone had requested such a thing from him was when one of his men got arrested for doing something stupid, and he had to make a case to Commander Yamamoto on why they shouldn't be stripped of their zanpakutou and kicked out of Sereitei. He didn't hear the low growl in his chest until he spoke, "What the hell is happening?"

"Just trust me," she insisted, her own brows furrowing in a sudden look of sorrow. "I just need you to vouch for me so that I may speak to Commander Yamamoto!"

"What do I get out of it?" he spat heatedly, his irritation suddenly spiking. Here she was, asking him to do a huge favor for her, after she had ignored him for a solid week! When she looked at him in confusion, he almost laughed derisively. "You push me to the side whenever you feel like it, then come back to me begging for a favor?" he snorted.

"I'm sorry, Zaraki—"

He snarled. "Back to formalities too, are we?"

"Please," she breathed and buried her face against his chest. "Just do this for me. I need two captains to vouch for me, and I've only been able to make my case to Captain Unohana. The others are too busy to give me the time of day!"

"So I'm your last resort." He was getting down right pissed.

Her small hands fisted in the folds of his kimono. "I…I didn't know if you would help me," she whispered against his hard muscle.

"Quit insultin' me, Katsue," he snarled and placed his heavy paws on her shoulder, pushing her back far enough so their bodies didn't touch. The heat of her against him always fuddled his head up and sent his body roaring. As much as he loved it, he wasn't in the mood for being jacked up on hormones. "You're not gonna tell me shit, are you?"

"It's complicated!" she replied just as heatedly, only out of desperation instead of anger.

"Think I'm too stupid to understand something complicated?" he growled. It wasn't fair, and he didn't care. She had purposely excluded him from whatever she was going through, and he didn't appreciate it one damn bit.

"Fine," she snapped, her small hands tugging at her obi. He watched—a silent, angry, menacing presence—as she tugged the knot loose. She didn't hesitate as she tore her kimono open, exposing her bare pale skin and the lacey bra she sported. His hormones kicked into over drive as she loosened the ties on her pants, the heavy cloth sagging loosely to the point where he could see the top of the wide 'V' between her hips.

"The hell are you doing?" he growled as she stepped towards him, her small hands grabbing his and placing them on her hot, smooth hips. Reflexively his hands tightened on her skin, his fingers sliding under the thin elastic of her panties. He was as hard as a rock as she glared coldly up at him, her hands busying with his own obi.

"Here's your bloody favor," she growled back under her breath.

"Gods, you stupid woman," he snarled and tore himself away from her just as she managed to loosen his obi. His massive hands tugged her pants back up her hips, deftly working the ties that would restrain them to their proper place. She looked down at the ground between them as he finished putting her shihakusho back to rights, tightly tying her obi in a decisive manner.

It absolutely killed him to hide that skin of hers.

Cupping one of her cheeks in his hand, Zaraki angled her face up to his. He was momentarily shocked to see her cloudy eyes watery with tears, before he leaned down to press a kiss over each of her eye lids. "You will come to me on your own," he growled deep in his throat even as she sniffled under his hand. "You'll be hot and hungry for me. You'll be breathless and burning up in your clothes. And I will rip every last fiber of them off your body," his erection throbbed in his pants as he murmured the words into her thick hair, and it pained him to resist ripping her clothes off right this moment. "And that ain't happenin' right now."

"Please, Kenpachi…" she begged quietly even as he felt his anger completely dissolve. He was a sap for a crying woman, he decided. First Yachiru learned to manipulate him with tears, and now here Katsue was, tearing at his heart strings. It was worse than a begging puppy. And Zaraki definitely had a soft spot for puppies, not that he would ever tell anyone.

"When?" he murmured and continued burying his face against her hair. His body was humming with an urgency to get at her body, and he was barely managing to restrain himself.

"Now," she laughed softly before wiping at her eyes. "Captain Unohana said that Commander Yamamoto would only be willing to see me today, after the lunch bell. It was the only time he would be able to gather all the captains for a matter he deemed trivial."

He sighed as he tore his body from hers once again. That explained the sudden summons from Yamamoto that Ikkaku brought him this morning. His hand enveloped hers and he immediately started dragging her back down the stairs. "Well, let's get goin'," he grunted, fixing a scowl back on his face.

Yachiru was elated when they both emerged from Katsue's clinic. She was even happier when she found out where they were going. The little devil child was always excited for a trip to see Commander Yamamoto, especially if it meant a gathering of all of the Gotei Thirteen Captains in one spot. She seemed convinced that whenever it happened, something amazing was soon to follow. Zaraki found that she was usually right.

He didn't like dropping Katsue's hand as they paused outside the commander's meeting hall. He didn't like the scared look in her eyes as she looked up at him while he straightened her kimono, his hands lingering for a moment at the base of her throat. "Breathe," he murmured to her. For someone like Katsue, who had grown up and trained under the constant dedication to rank, facing Commander Yamamoto when she was so low on the totem pole was terrifying. Flashing her a sudden grin, Zaraki placed a quick kiss on her forehead. "Don't let him bully you."

She nodded, drawing herself up to her full height and squaring her shoulders. Together they turned to the great doors, and with a mighty push of Zaraki's hands, they opened. Katsue took a deep breath as she glanced over the two columns of captains that stood in front of her, and at their very head, Commander Yamamoto. Zaraki went immediately to his spot, occupying the hollow space between Captain Hitsugaya Toushirou and Kurostuchi Mayuri.

"Officer Nanashi," Commander Yamamoto's deep voice boomed through the hall as she bowed deep from the waist and stayed there. "It is my understanding that you have a matter you wish to approach the Gotei Thirteen on?"

"Yes, High Commander," her voice was strong and confident as she spoke.

"You may approach," the ancient man spoke, and she immediately straightened from her bow and walked towards the space between the gathered captains. She could feel Zaraki's burning eyes on her, and instead of making her shiver or uncomfortable, it gave her strength. "Who will vouch for her?"

"I, Unohana Retsu, shall," her captain's clear voice rang out in answer. Katsue resisted looking away from the dark eyes of Commander Yamamoto as her captain continued. "Nanashi Katsue has discussed the matter at length with me, and I deem it a necessary change among the Gotei Thirteen."

"Who will second?" the Commander's eyes stayed locked with hers, even as he addressed the remaining captains.

Zaraki's voice was a deep growl as he spoke, "Me." It was short and simple, so unlike her captain's elegant response. If she wasn't locked in eye contact with the intimidating figure of the High Commander, she would have laughed. It was amazing, she thought, at how Zaraki could ease her with one single word.

"Then speak, Officer Nanashi," the commander ordered.

She nodded slightly in acquiescence, before beginning. "I was recently ordered into the field, along with a team of healers from Squad Four. I acted under Captain Zaraki's orders to tend to the wounded and save the lives I could," she spoke clearly. "During the battle, it is my firm opinion that the Gotei Thirteen suffered many more casualties than was necessary."

"What brings you to this conclusion, Officer Nanashi?" the calm voice of Captain Ukitake interrupted her.

"It was my misfortune to witness the death of one of my own healers," she replied immediately, barely containing a wince at the memory.

"And how did the death of one man influence your opinion?" the man queried, and Katsue felt a surge of confidence.

"He died to a cero blast when he was attempting to save the life of a dying man in the middle of the field. It has been taught to every Shinigami that has entered the academy that they are to evacuate an injured man from the field of battle before performing any healing arts that require intense amounts of concentration. Because of this man's lack of training and experience, he had forgotten this lesson and attempted to stem the flow of blood from a sliced carotid artery—" she was interrupted as the creepy Captain Kurotsuchi snorted. No doubt he found her words entertaining. "I had managed to pull a young female medic away from the pair, but was unable to save the wounded man or the medic.

"It has been my experience in the past that field medics from the Fourth Squad are often thrown into their first battle with little preparation. The same procedures that are used to prepare academy students to battle—by setting up safe zones to combat false hollows—are not used when training field medics. It has been assumed that their combat training has prepared them sufficiently to perform their duties safely. And it has not."

"That is a bold statement," Commander Yamamoto's voice was a loud boom as he sat forward on his seat. "Do you insult the methods by which Captain Unohana has trained you and your fellows for so many years?"

"No," she replied immediately. "Captain Unohana has taught us to the best of her ability with the resources she was allotted. I am confident that many more Shinigami would die on a regular basis without the hard work that she has put into the training of the Fourth Squad. However, she does agree with me when it comes to matters of improving the efficiency of all medical teams and in lowering the rates of fatalities. She shares my opinion that there is always room for improvement."

"And how do you propose to do so?"

She took a deep breath, before stealing herself. "I was fortunate enough in my past to belong to the Eleventh Squad. I have fought and trained with many men that still fight under Captain Zaraki. I know their tactics inside and out, I know their hand signals, their styles. I know the men I fight to save," she spoke heatedly. "It is my belief that there should be specific teams of medics assigned to each squad that sees combat, so that others will learn these same lessons to better serve them in battle. I have also proposed several adjustments to training regimes to Captain Unohana, to better prepare medics for the field. This also includes an adjustment at the Shinigami Academy, to train aspiring medics for their roll in field work during exercises."

"And do you have these proposed adjustments, Captain Unohana?" Commander Yamamoto broke eye contact with Katsue only long enough to meet Unohana's steady gaze.

"I do," she replied, before breaking rank to hand the Commander a thick folder of documents. "Officer Nanashi and myself have been working on a list of the proposed changes, as well as in depth plans to execute each. This has been an effort my entire squad has under taken, and has helped to prepare. I included a list of the most common difficulties field medics face, and methods of better training them to handle those situations."

Commander Yamamoto tucked the folder under one thin arm, before his eyes returned to Katsue. The room was silent as Captain Unohana fell back into rank, her eyes kind and reassuring as she looked at Katsue. At last, the Commander spoke. "Captain Zaraki has debriefed me fully on the battle in Karakura Town with the Ajakuuru class hollows," his voice bellowed through the hall. "He has told me of your fierce dedication to protecting them, going so far as to battle an Ajakuuru that stumbled upon your field hospital."

Katsue swallowed heavily. She had fought an Ajakuuru?

"And Captain Unohana has also debriefed me before this meeting on the difficulties the people of your profession face when in the field. While it is different from combating the enemy head on, our field medics are detrimental in this eternal war against hollows. I will consider the changes you have made," his voice rumbled, and Katsue almost cried out in joy. "A copy of your work will be sent to every captain for their input and consideration, and is subject to change dependant on our interpretations. But I agree, Officer Nanashi, that changes must be made."

With his last word, an invisible signal must have sounded through the room, for every Captain fell out of rank. Commander Yamamoto watched them silently as they filed out of the room, his eyes still locked on Katsue's. She swallowed nervously, before Captain Unohana brushed her shoulder. "Let us go, Katsue," she whispered.

Katsue didn't move, though, until she felt Zaraki's immense presence beside her. Flanked by the two captains she would die for, Katsue dipped in a deep bow to her High Commander. The old man nodded to her slightly, before she turned and left, Zaraki and Unohana at either of her sides.

"Congratulations, Officer Nanashi," Captain Unohana's low voice was full of pride as they stepped into the shining sunlight of Sereitei. "You have survived your first meeting with Commander Yamamoto, and it turned out to your liking. I hope the rest of your encounters with him will turn out as well."

Eyes wide, Katsue stared up at the older woman. "I have to meet with him again?"

"You gotta be involved in every step now," Zaraki growled, his shoulder brushing hers ever so slightly as they walked. "This is your project; he ain't gonna just take it over for you. He's gonna summon you at all hours to hear every last word you wrote on those papers from your own mouth. He's gonna argue with you, challenge you, and expect you to defend every change you wanna make."

"Dear gods," she breathed as the idea sank in. "What have I gotten myself in to?"

"The work of a healer," Captain Unohana's voice seemed to be laughing as she broke away from them, heading in the direction of her own headquarters.

Zaraki grunted and looked at Katsue out of the corner of his eye. "You shoulda told me," he murmured.

"I don't know what I was doing," she blushed and looked at her feet as she walked, her hand reaching out to brush his fingers. She wanted to hold his hand as they walked together back to the Eleventh Headquarters, but she was all too aware of the bright light and the obscene number of witnesses walking around Sereitei. Hell, she could see the haori of Captain Ukitake as he walked ahead of them in the distance. "I couldn't sleep when you brought me home. I woke Captain Unohana up in the middle of the night, ranting and raving…and the next thing I know I was working on this huge project. I barely ate and slept, and I didn't realize how many days had passed until this morning…"

He grunted, his chest heaving with a giant sigh. "So I'm gonna have more scrawny Fourth Squad members hovering around my headquarters?"

Katsue laughed, her voice clear like bells, just as he heard it in the bath house. "If everything pans out, you'll be training them, too."

He heaved with another sigh. "You can do it. You'll be in charge of 'em, after all."

"And what if I tell you that I want to transfer to the Eleventh?" she drawled lazily, a small grin pulling at the corners of her full lips.

"I'd still make you do it," he grinned wolfishly as he turned his head to look down at her. "And I think you're full of shit, you know that?" She laughed, her hair bouncing lightly on her shoulders as she did. "I know you ain't gonna transfer after a speech like that. Still," he murmured, "Fightin' like you did, I'd be glad to have you."

Her smile faded slowly, before her hand tugged slightly on his sleeve. "I scare myself, Zaraki," she whispered before her hand slid easily to the hilt of her zanpakutou.

"'Cause you don't know who you are," he replied smoothly. "I can name about twenty-six men in my squad alone that have lost themselves in battle like you did. They still do every now and then. Not a single one of 'em is scared by it, though. And it's 'cause they know that the person in battle is different from the person that walks around Sereitei bullshittin' around. You are you. That woman on the field was a part of you. When you come to terms with that, you won't ever be scared again."

Blushing, she looked down at where her hand touched her zanpakutou. She could feel it humming under her touch, as if it were agreeing with Zaraki's words. "I used to like it…back when I was in the Eleventh. Every time I fought it was like a dream. I was always so angry and pissed off at the world, but when Mouko Shuurajo and I were fighting…" her hand flexed on her sword.

A chill of excitement ran up Zaraki's spine as he considered her thoughtfully. "You really should transfer," he replied after a long silence. She smiled at him shyly, and his groin ached in response. It simply wasn't right, the way she caused his body to act up. "Or at least beat the crap out of Yumichika. That bastard struts around actin' like he's better than every man in the Eleventh, but he won't draw that sad excuse of a zanpakutou to prove it. Shit, he rarely even fights hollows with the damn thing."

She laughed that wonderful laugh of hers, and he felt the weight of his week's vigil evaporate in the wind. He hadn't realized how stressed and worried he had been until now.

"Just admit one thing," he rumbled as her laughter faded, leaving a broad smile on her pretty face. "You missed fighting."

She blushed again, giving him a sly smile as they turned down a darkened alley that acted as a short cut to the Eleventh's headquarters. "You were right, Zaraki," she purred and half lidded her stormy eyes as she pressed her body against his. He growled at her as she ran her fingers down his flat stomach and groin, his manhood punching out in his pants to meet her touch. She laughed huskily as she rose to the tips of her toes, her full lips barely brushing his in a soft kiss as she spoke. "I dreamed of fighting…" she whispered and slowly fell back onto her feet, Zaraki's mouth following hers absently as he continued growling. "I have very vivid, detailed, exciting dreams…"

"Oh?" he grinned slowly and cupped her cheek in a large hand. He stroked her smooth skin with his thumb as he pulled her soft body closer to his, his erection pressing firmly against her. He was growling in excitement as her dainty hand tugged ever so slightly on his obi, her lips brushing down his chin before tracing his jaw back to his ear. His hand fell down to run across her neck and pushed the edges of her kimono to the side. His mouth pressed down in a soft kiss against her the burning hot skin of her shoulder.

"And that show you put on in the bath house," she breathed into his ear, setting the hair on his neck to standing straight up. She made a sound akin to a groan as his obi fell open, and her hand found the taught muscles of his stomach. "Makes them all the more pleasurable…when I can dream about every inch of your body…naked…pressing into my body…"

He snarled and tried to push her back against the closest wall, only to have her dance lithely out of his arms. Eyes flashing angrily, he watched as she leapt to the top of the farthest wall, laughing her little auburn head off. She tossed her head so her hair fell over one shoulder, before she gave him a coy wink. She ran as he lurched into motion, growling and snarling under his breath as he chased her along the walls of Sereitei. He had to give up nearly an hour later, after he lost her among the maze of the walls and rooftops. Scowling and cursing her, and the mother that raised her to be such a vixen, he had no choice but to make his way back to his headquarters.

No doubt she would be waiting there in her little clinic, proud of herself over her wiles and tricks. Shit, he cursed to himself as he pulled his kimono together and tied his obi. His cock was throbbing in his pants, a constant reminder to what she so tauntingly offered him _twice_ in one day. He was a dumbass, he decided as he let out a huge sigh, for passing up on her first offer. Serves him right to act all chivalrous, he snorted. Now she was catching on and playing his game, using her body as a chess piece as she flaunted it around him in front of him. The tides were turned, he grumbled. And no doubt his dreams were going to be a lot more exciting now, too.

* * *

*still cackling* Poor old Zaraki. He did it to himself, in my opinion!

As always, thank you for any and all feedback! I appreciate all your guys' input! =)


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 7/?  
Rating: MA for smut and language.  
Warnings: Coarse language, adult situations.  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. I am forever the slave to his world. Nanashi Katsuo is mine.  
A/N: This chapter is a bit calmer than the others. I was worried I wrote Zaraki out of character but I think it suits him well...lemme know what you think.

* * *

"Tag, you're it," Zaraki mimed Katsue's voice in a high alto before he growled. That damned woman! Taunting and teasing him, challenging him to games of bloody _tag_? She was worse than Yachiru! At least he could catch the pint sized Vice Captain, or lure her into traps with bags of candy. Katsue? Gods, she was clever and fast. Hell it took him half an hour locked in a small room with her to catch her last time. And that ended poorly when Ikkaku came barging in to find Zaraki wrestling Katsue to the ground as she laughed her tight little ass off.

Whoever invented tag, he thought, needed to die repeatedly for the rest of eternity. Or at least turn into a hollow so he could have the pleasure of disposing of that demented soul himself. Bloody tag.

He curled a lip in a silent snarl as his deep black eye caught sight of Katsue. She was strolling along an over grown path in the middle of a wooded garden, Hanatarou at her side, as she chatted. She was completely ignorant of the surprise Zaraki had set up. And miraculously she hadn't noticed his reiatsu. The damned thing was so difficult to hide—it really wasn't fair in tag when she could sense him coming a mile away. Just a few more steps…

Katsue screamed as one moment she was walking along happily, and the next she was flying through the air by her ankle. The world swirled around her in dizzying shades of green, blue, and brown as one second the earth would be under her head, then a tree, then the blue sky, and back to the brown dirt path beneath her. Her chest heaved as she fought off a panic attack as she stared down at Hanatarou, who only stared up at her wide-eyed. "What happened!" she screeched.

Zaraki grinned as he leaned forward on his perch, his massive hands grabbing on to the front of Katsue's kimono. "Tag," he snarled as he turned her dangling body so that she could glare at him. "You," he kissed her soundly, "are it."

"Zaraki, you bastard!" she screamed at his face as he sat back on his perch, roaring with laughter. "You almost killed me! Cut me the fuck down!"

Hanatarou sighed in resignation as he looked up at the two. It would be his luck, he thought, to always befriend people who dragged him into weird situations. First it was Rukia and Ichigo, and now he was caught up in whatever weird games Katsue and Zaraki were always playing with each other.

Zaraki was still laughing, the whole tree shaking at his back as he did. With a feral snarl Katsue ripped her zanpakutou from her hip and swung, the blade easily slicing through the rope. As she fell, she lashed out with one foot to split the branch Zaraki sat on, turned a flip midair, and landed lithely on her feet. Zaraki crashed to the ground as his branch gave way under his immense weight. She sheathed her blade with a smug look of contentment as she glanced at the huge man.

"I'm gonna go…" Hanatarou sidled away nervously, before turning and breaking into a flat out run towards safety. He could hear Katsue's light voice shouting at Zaraki as he continued laughing.

Zaraki was grinning like a wolf as he launched himself at Katsue, a surge of satisfaction rolling through his body as he tackled her to the ground. She screamed and lashed out at him with her little fists, pummeling him about on his shoulders. He silenced her angry rebuttals with a firm kiss, his jaw forcing hers open as he slipped his tongue alongside hers. He snorted with laughter as she bit down and glared at him. "Sthop ith," his chest rumbled as he glared down back at her, his tongue trapped between her teeth. He shrugged, before crushing his lips back to hers and hiking her legs up around his waist.

She moaned as he thrust his hips against her, his erection grinding ever so deliciously right against that wonderful part of her body that he ached to get at. "You're a bastard," she growled as his finally freed mouth wandered along her jaw to her neck. He bit her gently, eliciting another low moan. Within a few short seconds her every angry threat was silenced as he ground against her, his hips swiveling as her back arched under him. He rumbled in contentment as she let out soft sighs of pleasure, her hands holding on to him instead of trying to beat him up.

"You know, you can't actually have sex with your clothes on like that," a young voice drawled a few feet down the path. Katsue's eyes shot open to see young Captain Hitsugaya staring blankly at them, his arms folded against his chest.

"Captain Hitsugaya!" Katsue gasped and shoved against Zaraki's hard shoulders, panicking as she struggled to free herself from under his huge body.

He grunted, before pressing his lips hard against hers. "Ignore 'im," he growled into her mouth even as he shot Hitsugaya an ugly glare. "Maybe it'll go away."

"I need to talk to Nanashi," Hitsugaya replied lazily in response, before he covered a yawn with his lean forearm. "Hurry up."

"Zaraki!" Katsue slapped him soundly on the blind side of his face, and he sighed. Glowering at Hitsugaya, he slowly rose to his feet, his hands pulling Katsue up as he stood. She stumbled against him, her cheeks a bright red as she aimed her eyes at the ground. "My apologies, Captain Hitsugaya," her voice was shaky as Zaraki heaved with another sigh beside her.

"Get it over with, runt," he snapped irritably. It was just his gods damned luck that every time he got Katsue worked up, something had to fuck it up. Hell, he had considered kidnapping her and hiding away in the real world for a week or two. He had almost done it, until he thought that maybe his luck would draw Kurosaki into the middle of them for some damned reason.

Hitsugaya regarded him calmly. "I need to talk to Nanashi, not you, Zaraki."

"Tough shit," he grunted and slung his arm across Katsue's shoulder. She shifted nervously under his weight, before giving him a resigned look.

"Captain Zaraki, please," she whispered desperately. He tossed her a glare, and she winced. She knew how he hated how formal she got around others with him. He hated it with a passion. With another heavy sigh—driving home the point that he was definitely not okay with this, and that Katsue would pay dearly for it later—he crossed his own thick arms across his chest and pushed past Hitsugaya.

"Runt," he grunted as he passed the young captain.

"Heathen," Hitsugaya replied smoothly. His sharp blue eyes were watching Katsue as she looked nervously at her feet. When he felt Zaraki's reiatsu pause about twenty meters down the path, Hitsugaya sighed and rolled his eyes. "I have questions on your proposed changes," he addressed the nervous woman in front of him.

She bowed deeply, "Anything you need, Captain Hitsugaya."

Finally, he smiled smugly to himself, someone that respected his position despite his age. "It is my understanding, Nanashi, that you had returned to the field for the first time in a little over sixty years the night Zaraki dragged you to the battle with the Ajuukaru. How is it that after so long, after one fight you decided changes had to be made?"

She straightened from her bow slowly, her blush gone as she met his eyes stare for stare. "Half of my medics were green," she said simply. "Fresh on the field for their first time, because Captain Unohana did not know when she would get another opportunity to break them into field duties. Because of this, one was killed, three were injured, and Zaraki's men may have died due to their inexperience. It was the same way for me the first time I had entered the field as a medic—I was a hindrance to my fellows until I managed to learn."

"You also ask that each squad takes on a team of medics, and trains them the way they train their own men? You think this is a reasonable request of the Gotei Thirteen? It is difficult enough to train our own," his voice was a lazy drawl.

"With all due respect, Captain Hitsugaya, the medics need only watch if a captain is unwilling to train them. It would be detrimental, in mine and Captain Unohana's opinion, but watching will teach them at least squad hand signals and battle tactics. We also proposed several trials in a safe setting, where medics will have the opportunity to practice what they learn."

"Does it bother you," his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, "that you lost men trying to save the brutes from Eleventh?"

That drew her up short, as she stared, dumbfounded, at Hitsugaya. "Excuse me, Captain?" her voice was quiet, still too shocked to speak up.

"Half of those men were rapists or murderers before they came to Sereitei and enrolled in the academy. Zaraki Kenpachi himself was a murderer," he paused as he let his words sink in. Oddly enough, Katsue's face seemed to harden and grow distant as she stared at him. "They pick brawls with anyone and everyone, destroy property, and are particularly crude to your own squad members. Why do you fight so avidly for their lives?"

"The members of the Fourth Squad," she began coldly, "from the newest recruit to Captain Unohana herself believe that every life deserves an equal and fair opportunity to be saved, despite the personal feelings of the healer. With that being said, it is my own personal belief that the members of Squad Eleven are completely harmless to their fellow Shinigami, despite their reputations. Half of the men you accuse of being rapists or murderers were falsely accused, or lie when they strut about boasting."

"And the way they treat the Fourth?" one of Hitsugaya's eyebrows arched coolly.

She smiled slowly. "Captain Hitsugaya, between you and me, I believe that they are all bark and no bite. From my own personal experiences, and many of my fellow squad members, most of the men from the Eleventh are terrified of healers. It is why they are so rude, until they get so much as a jammed finger and coming running to us to fix them up."

"And your relationship with Captain Zaraki Kenpachi does not sway your opinion on this matter?" he smiled back at her, but the look didn't reach his cold eyes.

"My relationship with Captain Zaraki is personal, and does not affect my professional life," she said firmly, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

"Was he the one that convinced you to propose these changes to Captain Unohana, and High Commander Yamamoto?"

"No," she replied immediately. "Zaraki had no hand in my work. In fact, he did not see me until the day I presented my case to High Commander Yamamoto. He, his whole squad, and dozens of members from the Fourth can attest to this."

Hitsugaya nodded wisely, before his eyes shut and he turned his back to her, already taking slow steps down the path. "Thank you for your time, Officer Nanashi," he drawled.

She stared after him, her eyes narrowing in a cold glare. She didn't even blink until Zaraki strolled lazily back up to her, glaring over his shoulder at the object of her ire. "What'd he want?"

"He asked if our relationship was the reason I proposed my changes," she snarled slowly under her breath.

Zaraki snorted. "Little runt always thinks that people leave holes in their plans that can expose 'em. You told him I didn't even know what the hell you were doin'?"

"Yes," she huffed and tore her eyes off the small form of the retreating captain. Her delicate brows were still furrowed in irritation as she looked up into Zaraki's black eye.

"Then you ain't got nothin' to worry about from him. He likes to test people, see where they stand on his own. He's probably happy as shit that you're not my puppet."

"Please," she sniffed as he resumed draping his arm over her slender shoulders. "As if you could control me."

"Is that a challenge?" Zaraki rumbled low in his throat as he looked at her, his eye sparkling with lust as she gave him a flat stare.

"Captain Hitsugaya just caught you humping me," she reminded him.

He shrugged his huge shoulders. "Onlookers aren't a turn on for you?"

She punched him in the ribs, and he threw back his head in laughter as she flinched. She rubbed her fist and glared at the spot she had hit him in. "You are not sane, Kenpachi."

"Never said I was," he rumbled and buried his face against her hair. He inhaled deeply even as his hand reached up to pick a pin out of the tight coil she kept her hair locked up in. "I heard what you said to him…" he rumbled after a short pause. "About half the accused murderers in Eleventh bein' fake. What do you think I am, Katsue?"

Her back stiffened as he picked another pin out of her hair. She knew without looking that he was dropping the small pieces of metal onto the dirt on the path, and she would have to buy yet another tin of the pins soon. He seemed to think that if he trashed enough of them that she'd stop wearing her hair up. "I don't think you're a murderer, Kenpachi."

"I am," he grumbled and pulled out another pin. Sure enough she felt the small thing bounce off her sandal as he dropped it over her shoulder. "First time I picked up a knife it was to kill a man. I didn't stop 'till I got to Sereitei. Your old captain was the last man I murdered. What do you think about that?"

Another pin brushed her neck as he pulled it out of her hair, and she shivered again. A month ago she would have been trembling where she stood if she was having this conversation with Zaraki. A month ago, she wouldn't have known better as he picked out her hair pins and talked about murder. "Why did you kill the first man?" she asked calmly.

"He beat the shit out of me," he spoke softly against her hair. He was trying not to remember that cold night, hundreds of years ago. He had been a weak, scrawny little runt with no muscle on his bones or no name to call himself. Half starved, bleeding all over himself, he hadn't thought as he plunged a steak knife over and over again into that man's chest. He was full of anger and hate, and he had shamelessly killed hundreds of men after that.

It wasn't the kind of thing he ever wanted to talk about with Katsue.

"Yachiru told me you saved her," she continued anyway. "She said you killed the men who raped her mother and murdered her in front of her father, before they killed him to."

He frowned and picked out another hairpin. "She told you that?" Yachiru hadn't told anyone before, not even Matsumoto. Hell, he was starting to think that maybe she didn't remember. He didn't even know himself until later that night, when he was searching the nearby woods where he had found Yachiru for signs of her family. All he found were a couple's desecrated remains, and a small hut with a child's pink bed in a corner. The blankets were made out of the same pattern of cloth as Yachiru's kimono had been.

"You may think you're a murderer, Kenpachi," Katsue spoke softly as she turned under his arm, her small body leaning into his. "And you may want people to think it. But I know better."

He grunted and picked out another pin. That seemed to do the trick, as her twisted hair fell onto her shoulders. He ran his long fingers through her silken locks, shaking out the remaining pins. "That's a load of shit."

"You're a load of shit," she prodded him in the side with a finger. "You killed to protect yourself. You killed to protect Yachiru. I bet you had to kill to keep yourself and her alive."

"And your captain?" he snapped irritably. He hated it when people misconstrued him as some tragic ass hero. Heroes didn't kill people. And he sure as shit didn't want to be a hero, anyway.

"I cried at his funeral," she murmured and stood on her tip toes, placing a soft kiss to the firm line of his lips. He refused to meet her eyes as she gazed up at him, even though his hands still stroked at her loose hair. "I hated you for years until I came to term with what happened. But Kenpachi," she kissed him again, this time her lips lingering until she felt his mouth move under hers. "It was a fair duel. His stubborn pride got himself killed, especially when he refused to step down when you offered him an out. You think I didn't hear about that?"

"Don't say it," he grumbled before she could kiss him again, silencing his angry growl.

"You're a good man, Zaraki Kenpachi," she whispered against his lips.

Shit, she said it.

And what a man he was, she thought as he picked her up in his arms. She had enough time to wrap her arms around his neck before he leapt to the treetops, carrying her as he ran through the canopy. She didn't ask him where they were going, she only leaned her head against his broad chest and listened to his pounding heart. She fell asleep like that, his heart beat lulling her to sleep as he whisked her away to some unknown location. A smart woman would have been worried that he'd get lost, but she didn't care if he did. She trusted him as she dozed in his warm arms, and didn't wake until he came to a sudden stop.

The sound of rushing water was what officially woke her, as her eyes slowly opened while the sound rumbled in her ears. Zaraki set her down gently, making sure her feet were firmly on the ground before he would let go of her. She looked around, a silent gasp escaping her lips as she gazed at the forest clearing he had brought them to.

"Took me a while to find it," he grumbled as he flopped down on the large boulder he stood on, his legs folding up as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"It's beautiful," she gasped as she watched the light refract off a surging waterfall. The water was crystal clear as it surged over a rock precipice, falling into a pool of green that faded into pitch black the deeper it became. It ran clear in the river that flowed peacefully from the pool, small fish glittering and flitting around just under the surface. Trees swayed in a gentle wind on the opposing bank, and green grass grew in a wide field all around them. She sat down slowly, her eyes still absorbing the pure beauty around her.

Zaraki mumbled something under his breath as she settled down on the rock, her hip pressed to his as she leaned into his huge body. After a moment, he slung his arm around her, and she settled against him comfortably. With a delicate touch, she grabbed his other hand as it rested in his lap. He was busy pretending that he wasn't paying attention to her as her dainty fingers traced the lines of scars on his hands. Years of fighting had left many of their kind all over his body, but his hands were especially marred by blades.

"Look," she spoke so quietly that he almost didn't hear her over the roaring of the water fall. He looked down at their hands, a scowl on his face. She traced a very particular scar on his hand—a bright white line that ran from the folds of skin between his thumb along his wrist, to curl wickedly towards the thick vein in his forearm. He growled as he remembered how he got that particular scar. She just didn't know when to give up—

And then she was moving one of his thick fingers along the line of a pale scar on her own hand. He stared as he watched the path it trailed—across the folds of skin between her thumb and curling around towards the vein in her wrist. When he had first looked at his own blood gushing from his wound over a hundred years ago, he had thought the then captain of the Eleventh Squad had been trying to cut his hand off. It wasn't until after the battle that he found several of the deep cuts across his body, each one near a vital pulse point. The man had been smart, in hindsight, but Zaraki wasn't the kind of man to die slowly to a wound.

"And here," Katsue's voice was a quiet purr as she pulled her hair to one side of her neck, exposing another pale scar that he hadn't noticed before. It was so thin, and it nearly blended perfectly with her naturally pale skin. "Here," she spoke again and shifted where she sat. He didn't even flinch as she tugged down her pants over one hip, showing him another scar that ran close to her femoral artery. She gave him a shy smile before tugging her pants back to their proper place.

"The hell were you doing fighting your own captain?" he rumbled as she settled back against him, her hands returning to his.

"I was testing for position as Vice Captain," she replied easily as his fingers entwined with hers. "I was stronger than his current Vice Captain, and I was angry enough to want his spot for my own back then. But instead of letting me fight him, my captain stepped in…" she laughed shyly. "I got my ass handed to me. I thought I was doing so well, getting all these tiny cuts that barely touched me. And then my movements started slowing, and my eyes got heavy. I couldn't lift my zanpakutou. And then he used his bankai and it was over before I knew what was happening. It was when Captain Unohana nursed me back to health that I decided to leave his squad."

His head rested on top of hers as she spoke, his mouth set in a firm frown. "Thought you left after you killed that hollow?"

He felt her shake her head under his. "It took me a couple months after that. I thought I'd feel better once I killed it; that somehow my life would make a lot more sense. Captain Unohana showed me that there was a lot more to my life than rage and fighting."

"I wish I coulda met you then," he rumbled, a slow grin spreading over his face. "I woulda liked to have seen you like that."

"I had my hair cropped."

"Never mind," he laughed.

"You know that Captain Unohana offered me the position of Vice Captain?" she spoke softly as his laughter faded.

"I remember seeing your name on her list of prospects," he murmured and lifted her small hand to his lips. He kissed her scar, before kissing each of her finger tips. "You're a hell of a lot stronger than Koutestu. You shoulda seen Kurosaki wipe her out without even drawing his zanpakutou." Unohana's last Vice Captain had died in the field, and Zaraki remembered yawning as he browsed over the list of names Unohana had brought with her to discuss with the other captains. As far as Zaraki had been concerned back then, fresh in his seat as captain of his own squad, every person on that list was a scrub not worth the time of day.

"I wouldn't accept it," she laughed softly. "I didn't even accept a seat as an officer until ten years later. Unohana had almost forced it on me."

"Glad she did," his voice was husky as he breathed in her woodsy scent and savored the feel of her body against him. He never thought he could spend time like this with a woman—simply sitting and enjoying nature as they talked comfortably. Especially about things neither one of them liked talking about. "What's wrong with basic animalistic sexual attraction, Katsue?" he asked suddenly, remembering the words she had shouted at him only a few days after he had pressed himself on her. It hadn't bothered him then, but now as he sat peacefully at her side with sex last on his list of things to do at the moment, he found her words strikingly accurate to how he had felt towards her those first days. He didn't really know her—he just knew he wanted her.

She turned and looked up at him, her gray eyes glinting in the dying light as the sun slowly set against their backs. He met her eyes, his mouth in a firm line. "Absolutely nothing," she whispered as he buried a hand in her hair, cupping the back of her head as he tugged her towards him. His kiss was soft and sweet and stole her breath away. "You're a wonderful man, Zaraki Kenpachi," she repeated breathlessly as their lips parted.

"And you're more beautiful than any waterfall I've ever seen," he growled before pressing his lips back to hers, trying to chase away the words he had spoken. It was embarrassing, it made his face burn, but he felt she had to know. There were just things he couldn't bring himself to say to any woman, and he hoped she understood. He hoped she understood that he would kill anything and anyone for her, that he would tear down the walls of Seireitei if she asked it, that he would bring her the biggest jewels in the world if she wanted. But he was a complete and utter stooge when it came to telling her that. And he hoped the only jewels she was interested in were his.

"Take me home, Kenpachi," she whispered against his lips. "To _your_ home."

He didn't wait for her to tell him twice as he scooped her up in his thick arms.

* * *

This chapter and maybe the next will be the last time Zaraki treats her so sweetly (I hope that doesn't give what happens away, not as if you guys can't guess it), methinks! I enjoy writing aggressive sexed up Zaraki too much to keep up the fluff. Plus, I don't think he could maintain any iota of romance for extended periods of time!

I found a Zaraki fan circle, but alas, I think it died off like 2 years ago. :( Woe is me.

Thank you for all your fabulous comments! I hope to hear a lot more soon enough! =D


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 8/?  
Rating: MA for smut and language.  
Warnings: Coarse language and **SMUT**, you hath been warned.  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. I am forever the slave to his world. Nanashi Katsuo is mine.  
A/N: FINALLY. Posting this kind of stuff always makes me blush like a wierdo, though. Always takes me a few days after finishing writing it, too.

* * *

Even though it was a cool evening, Zaraki's body was on fire. He wasn't even exerting much energy as he ran from one roof top to the next, Katsue in his thick muscled arms. He wasn't entirely sure where he was going—nothing ever looked very familiar to him—but he felt an incessant pull directing him to the place he wanted to be. There was an inner force that drove him towards the Eleventh Squad Headquarters, to where his personal rooms lay tucked between several of his squad's dormitories.

Katsue's soft lips brushed his chin, drawing a deep rumble out of his chest as the touch seared through his body. The seductress in his arms had been periodically pressing soft kisses and gentle bites against his burning skin since he had picked her up. "Take me to your home…" her words echoed through his head as a taunting reminder to why he tried so hard to pick out the proper path through Sereitei. Every second that extended the delay between now and getting her in his bed was agony.

He curled his lip in a silent snarl, his fierce black eye focused on the winding rooftops ahead of him. She laughed, a soft, husky sound that made his erection throb in response. "Need directions?" she purred softly, one of her delicate hands playing with the short hair at the base of his skull. She was taunting him, even though he was trying his damnedest. Didn't she know how difficult she was making it for him, fuddling up his head the way she was?

…Probably.

A familiar insignia rose out of the jungle of buildings, and his chest ached with victory at the sight. He had never been so happy to see the distinctive pillars and arching sign that framed the entrance to the Eleventh's sector of Sereitei. With her laughing softly in his arms, he paused as he landed lightly on the rooftop of her own clinic. "Need anything?" he growled low to her, his head dipping to nuzzle hers. She smelled like the earth after it rained, clean and pure with a hint of metal.

"You," was her husky response before his lips captured hers in a heated kiss. Her mouth was soft and pliable against his, even though he was rough and demanding. It took every ounce of his self control to rip his lips away from hers, an angry growl in his throat as he took a running jump to the next rooftop. The pale red clay tiles of the officer's dorm were like a god send as he hurried towards the side of the building where his window stood, a wonderful icon of welcome.

"Quietly," he growled in her ear as he lifted her to the sill. Her hands pushed against the glass, forcing the window wide open. He got a great view of the curves of her round rump as she climbed in the window, the black and white of her shihakusho disappearing into the darkness beyond. Snarling in excitement he climbed up after her, he banged his head on the windowsill in the process or following her.

She laughed huskily, the moonlight filtering through behind him to illuminate her pale face. Her hair was still down, framing her in a silky halo that he rushed to run his hands through. With one strong arm he pulled her body close to his, grinning as her laughter faded when she felt his hard need. Eyes soft, delicate, she looked at him with a look he hadn't seen before. Like she was sad or something.

With a firm frown on his face he took a hesitant step back. Shit, he cursed to himself as a blush colored her cheeks and she looked away. He should've known it was too good to be true.

"Kenpachi…" her voice whispered in the darkness, and he heaved with a giant sigh. Scowling and rumbling in disagreement, he tore off his straw sandals and padded silently across the room, his immense bulk flopping down on the bed of pillows and blankets that littered one corner of the room. He had never gotten used to sleeping in a bed—traditional or modern—and much preferred the nest he had made for himself on the floor.

"What ever you want," he grumbled and lay back, his eye closing. He was focusing on his breathing, trying to get himself to haul in huge breaths of air in a calming manner. It didn't really work—he was barely resisting the urge to press her against a wall and rip her clothes off with his teeth, before burying every inch of himself deep in—he snarled and rolled over on to his side, facing the wall. Not being able to see her sure as hell didn't help, either. He could still hear her soft breaths, feel her eyes on him. And the sounds of her clothes moving as she took off her own sandals, her soft foot steps on the wooden floor as she came to him, slowly, hesitantly. It was all torturous.

"I'm sorry," she whispered softly as she sank on the cushions beside him, "I'm not ready..." He could feel her curling up on the bed and the hesitant touch of her hand to his thick shoulder. With a growl he flopped back over, his massive arms encircling her and holding her close. This wasn't what he had in mind, but it sure as hell beat sleeping alone.

"Night," he growled in her ear as she let out a huge yawn, her face nuzzling against the hot, hard planes of his chest.

**XXXX**

A soft, cool breeze lit on Katsue's cheeks. She screwed up her face in response, pulling a heavy blanket over her head as she snuggled back into the immense mass of burning heat that lay at her back. It was too late, she thought forlornly as she struggled to fall asleep. The cold woke her up, and now she found it terribly difficult to ease back into slumber. Her body felt hot and uncomfortable, despite her cold face. Her legs tingled in a desire to move, her fingers padded out soft beats against a pillow. She was restless despite being bone tired.

Zaraki pulled her closer with an irritated grumble, before he resumed snoring softly in her ear. He sounded more like a content cat dozing in the sunlight than a huge man passed out cold, she thought as she wriggled in his arms, rolling over so that she faced him. Her gray eyes watched the hard planes of his face, admiring how he had seemed to soften as he slept. He wasn't scowling even though he still looked firm and intimidating, and his brows were relaxed.

She wanted to do something, she concluded. How else could she explain her restlessness? She hadn't done her morning exercises yesterday; maybe her body was striking back at her for being lazy. Would Zaraki mind her waking him up and demanding to go for a walk with him?

Her leg moved against his, her foot pushing up the pant cuff of his hakama. Amused by the feint reaction on his face—a thin frown that silenced his snores—she pressed closer and let her leg hang lazily over his thigh. "Kenpachi…" she whispered and lifted her face towards his, her lips barely touching his. He grumbled in his sleep, his lips moving against hers ever so softly. With a soft sigh of content he kissed her, his arm tightening around her waist.

Katsue's urge to go for a walk flew out her head as she melted against his body, a tingle moving down her spine towards the ache between her legs. Zaraki was breathing heavily through his nose as his mouth surged against hers, his tongue slipping along hers in a tantalizing way. She knew the moment he awoke, when a low, deep growling started reverberating in his chest. One massive hand gripped the back of her head, holding her lips to his, while the other hiked her leg up higher so that it lay over the top of his hip.

She moaned low as he gently nudged her with his hips, the hard length of his erection brushing against the hot core between her legs. It made her shiver, feeling him through their layers of clothes touching a place she hadn't been touched in hundreds of years. Her last lover had been some low ranking man in the Eleventh who she tousled with when her body grew desperate for attention. Ever since she had joined the Fourth, though, she had given up any relationships or one night stands. Until now.

Her hands found the thick flaps of his obi and tugged ever so slowly, the knot loosening excruciatingly slow. His growl grew louder, over riding his harsh breathing. The moment the belt fell open, his kimono falling open between their bodies, he pulled his lips from hers to bite her neck. She moaned his name as his body surged against hers, heat blooming deep in her body.

He let her pull the heavy cloth off his shoulder, bringing haori, kimono, and thin kosude down altogether. Her soft hands ran over the hard, flexing planes of his shoulder and thick bicep, before he finished shrugging the whole mess off his arm. Snarling in frustration he rolled them both over, him nestled comfortably between her legs, before he ripped the lot off his broad shoulders. She was panting underneath him as both her hands touched his chest, a soft, cool presence that trailed down his flat pectorals to the hard washboard of his abs. They slipped along the edges of his hakama, until her hands buried under the cloth to grip his hips tightly and pull him against her.

That was the only sign he needed, before he sat back on his heels only log enough to rip open the ties of his hakama and push the damned things down his hips. She gasped as he lay back against her, the bare flesh of his manhood grinding against her. "Kenpachi…!"

His lips found hers again, silencing her in a hot and steamy crush. She arched under him, rubbing against his hard shaft as his hands fumbled at her obi. He gave up after a couple futile tries to get the cursed thing open and simply ripped it apart. His burning hands flattened along her smooth sides, running up her body in a heavy touch. She trembled under his hands, panting softly, as he just barely touched her swelling breasts under the thin fabric of her bra. He pulled back and scowled at the white lace, before he tore that apart, too.

Such nonsense, he growled in satisfaction as he bent his head to her heaving chest. She cried out his name as he nipped at one pert nipple, before drawing it between his lips. He continued to absently force her kimono off her slender shoulders as he busied his hungry mouth with her breasts.

Katsue's head was fumbling with the smallest thought as Zaraki's devilish tongue swirled circles against her sensitive breasts while his hips gyrated against her. It was all so much, she moaned. He was overwhelming and gods she loved every moment. The sound of cloth tearing brought her eyes down to stare at him as his huge hands ripped apart the cloth of her hakama. She absently worried where she would get clothes for tomorrow, before he pulled back slowly. He was smirking lazily at her, his black eye flashing yellow as his reiatsu flared up. She gasped, feeling its oppressive strength filling the room and bearing down on her.

"What the hell are these?" he growled, before he snapped the elastic band of her panties against the skin of her hips. She blushed as she looked down her bare body and saw nothing but his huge erection still pressing firmly against her.

"What?" she gasped breathlessly, her eyes locked on that throbbing piece of flesh.

He chuckled, a deep sound that shook his whole body. Still watching her with his fierce gaze, he pulled his body away and bent his head, lowering his mouth to her stomach. Her lips parted slightly as he licked a long trail down her flat stomach, before he took the band of her panties between his teeth and ripped it apart with a savage shake of his head.

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding in a short rush.

"Why bother wearing 'em," he drawled and breathed against the bare skin he uncovered, his head drawing lower ever so slowly, "they don't hide much…" he placed a soft kiss to the hot flesh between her legs, and she raised her hips to him in reply. With a throaty laugh he pulled away, his hands slamming into the cushion on either side of her head as he loomed over her. "Last chance," he drawled as he stared down at her, his body trembling in restraint.

Katsue looked up at him, her face hot with a burning desire. He looked so smug and full of himself, she thought absently, as if he thought he had won some huge prize. She didn't really care, she concluded as she cupped her small hands on either side of his head, just behind his ears. She was ready, she breathed softly as her lips lighted against his, she was totally and completely ready for whatever he had been fighting to do to her.

A hot hand latched onto her hip, rubbing down the length of her thigh before he pulled, hiking her leg back over his hip. It drew their bodies close as his mouth crushed hers hungrily, his chest rumbling as he growled into her mouth and his entire body surged. She broke their kiss with a loud cry as he pushed into her with one strong thrust of his hips, her body aching at the shock of his entry. But he didn't even pause to let her adjust to his sheer size, before he pulled out ever so slightly and pushed back into her.

"Kenpachi!" she cried his name as the world shattered around her. She felt his huge weight settle between her legs, his hot chest against hers, his mouth ravaging her neck. And the whole time he rocked against her, his body trembling in her embrace as she clung onto his shoulders.

Zaraki snarled as he tried to rein himself in. He didn't want to hurt her, he didn't want to scare her off after their first time together, and he sure as hell wanted her to enjoy this as much as he was. It had been so long in coming, he thought as he drove the entire length of his throbbing cock into the silky depths of her body, pleasure ripping throughout every fiber of his being. Days, weeks, almost a month of her body torturing him every moment of the day, even when he didn't see her. He couldn't help thinking about her through his every waking moment, picturing her naked and under him. And now it was all happening.

He barely resisted slamming his hips into hers as she flexed around him, a soft gasp falling from her full lips. He watched her face for a moment as he pushed into her, slow and hard. Her body stretched beneath him, her pained expression slowly slipping into pleasure as she let out a content sigh. Grinning, Zaraki nuzzled her face gently and tugged her hips tighter to his, reveling in her moaning gasp.

She was moving under him now, her own hips rising up to meet his as he pumped into her. "Say it," he growled breathlessly against her lips before his hips twitched, pounding into her suddenly. She cried out, her hands flexing on his shoulders. "Say you're mine," he gritted his teeth as her body tightened even more around his cock. Gods, if she squeezed any tighter he'd be done before he was satisfied.

She murmured something between panting gasps, her inner thigh rubbing against his hip as she writhed under his body. With another snarl he unchained himself, letting his hips thrust into hers roughly, over and over again. "Yours!" her voice trembled as her nails dug into his muscles. He groaned himself as the pain arched through his body, down his spine. The bells in his hair were jingling softly as he moved against her, pounding into her welcoming body as their hips met with wet slaps of skin meeting skin.

He felt the sudden change in her body as she groaned particularly loud, her body stretching out slowly. The muscles that squeezed him every time he withdrew from her body tightened and welcomed him when he thrust back into her, to the point where he grunted with effort. A thin sheen of sweat covered her body as her mouth parted, gasping soundlessly, before a loud moan of pleasure tore from her throat. Growling in satisfaction, Zaraki picked up the pace as she climaxed, her tight body trembling and shaking under his as she bucked under him. He would help her ride it out as long as she could, he swore and ground against her with each thrust. And before he knew it he was biting down harshly on her neck, snarling into her skin as the muscles in his groin spasmed. He came without warning, a painful pleasure searing his body at his sweet release.

She screamed his name, still clutching on to him as he flooded her body with warmth. Finally, after they writhed and panted against each other as both their orgasms faded, Katsue fell still beneath him. Panting, she stared thoughtlessly at the ceiling as he nuzzled her neck, placing soft kisses to the forming bruise where his teeth had been. "Mine,"  
he murmured in her ear as he settled on top of her. She could still feel his cock twitching deep in her body, and gods did it feel wonderful.

"Mine," she whispered back and flexed her body around him, eliciting a sharp groan that resembled a growl out of him. He rumbled with soft laughter, before slowly pulling out of her body. She gasped as he withdrew, mourning the parting of their bodies. Why the hell did she put this off so long?

His arms bundled her up against his hot, sweating body as he relaxed on the cushions beside her, still rumbling in satisfaction. He really was like a giant cat, she thought as he held her close, his lips pressing kisses to every inch of her skin that he could reach. With a stifled yawn she settled back against him, her restlessness fading into a deep exhaustion. Her body ached in a satisfying way, especially between her legs. She fell asleep, listening to the deep rumble that was his purr, and she couldn't have been happier.

**XXXX**

Madarame Ikkaku was nervous, he realized suddenly as his ears twitched at the soft creak of wood far down the hall. His hand lay ready on the hilt of his zanpakutou, prepared for whatever got his captain in such a piss poor mood last night. It wasn't as if it were unusual to feel Captain Zaraki's reiatsu spiking all over the place—it happened every time the huge man got pissed over something—but last night it was burning particularly hot. The damned thing had woken Ikkaku up in the middle of a dead sleep, and his room was on the opposite side of the building!

He cleared his throat nervously as he listened to his captain's heavy footfalls pad along the hall, heading directly for him. With a cautious glance at the table Ikkaku stood before—a giant thing covered entirely by plates and bowls of food—he waited to hear whatever orders Zaraki was reading to boom at him.

"Mornin'," Captain Zaraki grunted absently as he rounded the corner to their make shift eating area. Ikkaku stared, eyes wide and dumbfounded, as Zaraki paused in front of the table. He was fumbling with pulling a pair of hakama up the thick muscles in his naked legs while he walked, and had finally given up to stand still and hike the thick cloth up his bare hips. Without another word or so much as a look at his Second Seat Officer, Zaraki popped an entire peeled orange into his mouth and kept trudging towards the front door.

No more sake before noon, Ikkaku swore to himself as he stared at his captain's bare back as he stepped out into the late morning sunlight.

"Oi! Learn how to use that damn sword of yours!" Zaraki's voice bellowed as he prowled across the small courtyard in front of his dorm. The lower ranked members of his squad that practiced there every day barely kept themselves from staring as Zaraki kept walking right past them without any more booming threats, and straight towards the small building that was Katsue's. Yachiru was sitting on the front porch, kicking her little feet as the girl was lost in thought. "Yachiru," he rumbled and caught her attention.

"Ken-chan!" her face lit up immediately as she leapt to her feet, hurrying to his side to grab his hand. "There you are! I was wondering why you slept so late, Ken-chan! We missed breakfast with Nana-chan 'n' I think she's mad 'cause she's not answering her door or anything 'n' several Shinigami have come so far to have their boo-boo's fixed but she's not letting any of them in either and—and—and—!"

"Tch, she's back at the house," he grunted and patted her on the head with a massive hand. Grinning to himself at the thought of Katsue still passed out cold in his bed, he slid the doors to her clinic open and waltzed right in.

"Ken-chan! Nana-chan'll get mad at you if she finds out you're in her house without her permission!" Yachiru sang even as she bounced after him.

"She'll get over it," he chuckled as Yachiru leapt to her usual perch on his back, her small hands clinging to chunks of his hair. She hummed happily as he headed up to her room, going straight to the low dresser that was pressed against one wall. Without a sound he threw open drawers, grabbing pieces of a spare shihakusho as he did.

"Ken-chan! You shouldn't be going through a woman's drawers!" Yachiru chided him and knocked against his head.

"What the hell are these?" he grunted as he found a particular piece of clothing: a bright red lace affair with black accents.

"Lunch-jerry!" she giggled, her little feet kicking as his shoulders. "Matsumoto-kun brings back lots of it from the real world for the Shinigami Women's Association, and she sells it to help fund stuff!"

"These are panties?" he quirked an eyebrow and turned the skimpy cloth in his hands. No way in hell, he thought. And then he found a matching bra and a set of garters. "What the hell does she have this shit for?"

"Nanao-kun says it's good for a woman's self-esteem," Yachiru nodded wisely. "Sexy panties make a woman feel sexy! And she said somethin' about it being a turn on for men 'n' stuff."

What the hell did those women talk about in their meetings, Zaraki mused as he stuffed the weird undergarments among the armful of clothes he grabbed. "I ain't missin' anything, am I?"

Frowning, Yachiru flung herself across his head so that she could look into his eyes. "Hairpins! What are you up to, Ken-chan?"

"Screw the damned hairpins," he snorted and turned, plodding right back out of the building. "And I ain't up to anything. Katsue screwed up her clothes and I'm gettin' her new ones."

"Liar!" Yachiru squealed and started flailing her arms and legs. She was silenced as Zaraki halted midstride, a low, deep snarl tearing out of his throat. Curiously, she looked up to see him scowling at the vice captain from the fourth squad, Kotetsu Isane. The tall woman blushed violently at the sight of Kenpachi glaring at her, wearing only his hakama.

"The hell you want?" he snorted as she snapped to attention.

"Captain Unohana came to see Officer Nanashi, sir!" the woman's voice shook as she spoke.

Snarling, Zaraki lifted one hand to grab Yachiru by her kimono and deposited her on the ground. Hips rolling as he prowled into his own dorm, Zaraki was absolutely emanating fury. Was it too damn difficult, he snarled to himself, to get a whole freaking day to just him and Katsue? Every damn time he was starting to relax someone just had to come and ruin it.

"So it is true, then?" a calm, cool voice grabbed the focus of Zaraki's wrath as Captain Unohana spoke. She was standing in the middle of _his_ dining room, eating _his_ food, and giving a rather inappropriate look to _his _woman.

Katsue's face was bright red as she sat at the table, Zaraki's huge kimono hanging from her shoulders as she drew the fabric in tighter around her small body. Despite the immense pleasure at seeing her in his clothes, Zaraki was too pissed off to notice much beyond that. "The hell you want, Unohana?" he snarled.

Cool black eyes regarded him calmly. "Captain Hitsugaya warned me of this, but I did not think Katsue foolish enough to not recognize the symptoms of Nightingale's Syndrome. I came to insure her safety and bring her back to the Fourth Squad Headquarters."

Zaraki's hand flexed at his waist and he suddenly realized that for the first time in ages he had left his zanpakutou in his room. Damn his luck, he snarled, to not have his sword the one time he really, really, _really_ wanted to plunge it through the chest of another captain. Who gives a shit if it was Unohana, queen of the pacifists, she was blatantly threatening him. "Katsue ain't goin' anywhere," he snarled slowly.

"Captain Unohana," Katsue hurried to intervene, rising to her feet in a shaky movement. She was _sore_, she cringed before straightening her shoulders under the folds of Zaraki's kimono. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I think you misunderstand."

A cold chill ran down her spine as Unohana turned her eyes onto Katsue. She lifted a delicate eyebrow in question. "Oh? I am wrong to assume that you have ignorantly developed an attraction to Captain Zaraki while he was under your care? I have seen many young healers destroy themselves and their careers when they think they have fallen in love with a patient, Katsue. I know a Nightingale's case when I see it."

"Ikkaku," Zaraki barked to his third officer, who lounged lazily against a wall, trying to keep out of the way. "Go upstairs and get my zanpakutou," he growled and dropped the load of clothes he had brought for Katsue.

"That will not be necessary, Officer Madarame," Captain Unohana spoke sharply. "Officer Nanashi is under my command, and I will leave with her now."

"I'm not going anywhere!" Katsue cried out as Zaraki absolutely roiled with anger, his reiatsu jumping all over the place as he took an aggressive step towards her captain. She pressed her small body back against him, aware of the deep trembling in his body as he halted mid-step. He was absolutely aching to get at Unohana, to halt that bitch from taking his Katsue anywhere she didn't want to go. "Captain Unohana, please—"

She was silenced by a simple wave of her captain's hand. The woman regarded her and Zaraki calmly. "You are here of your own choosing, Katsue, and have not been forced to do what you were not willing to?"

"Yes, ma'am," she nodded in reply.

"You callin' me a rapist, Unohana?" Zaraki bellowed and fought with himself to not bowl Katsue over in his attempt to get at the cold bitch.

"I have my officer's best interest in mind, Zaraki," Unohana snapped coldly. "And I expect you to let her leave when she pleases. And if I so much as see any proof of her being abused—"

"Out!" he roared, trembling like an earthquake was under his feet. "Get the hell out of my division!" He waited where he stood, pressing close to Katsue's back, until the cold bitch of the Fourth Squad walked calmly past him and out of _his_ house, taking that joke of a vice captain with her.

"Kenpachi," Katsue whispered as she turned against her, her gray eyes wide with fright as she looked up at him. Her hand trembled as she lifted its soft touch to his cheek. With an angry growl he grabbed her up in his arms, heading directly to his room. Ikkaku was left alone, shocked stupid where he stood. "Kenpachi, calm down!"

He snarled at her as he slammed the door to his room shut behind him, and carried her struggling body over to his bed roll. With every iota of his body kept firmly in check, he gently set her down among the sea of pillows and blankets. He was extraordinarily delicate with her as he lay down beside her, holding her close and pressing a soft kiss to the bruise on her neck.

"Kenpachi, please," she stammered as he handled her like a porcelain doll, his mouth moving over every small blemish on her skin. He kissed her scars and bruises, nuzzled the knot in her thigh muscles, and did a torturously pleasing thing against the hot core between her legs. She moaned softly, arching her hips up to his wandering mouth. "What is it?" she gasped as he regarded her with guarded eyes.

Grumbling, he gently slipped his kimono off over her head and ran his massive hands over her bare body. "Mine," he murmured and placed soft kisses to her nipples, where he had been shamelessly nipping at her only hours ago.

"Zaraki," her voice was warm as she cupped his fierce face between her soft hands. She smiled as his gold eye met her gaze, pausing in his machinations just long enough. "What's wrong?"

"You make me get carried away," he snarled, his mouth set in a firm line as his brows turned his forehead into a plow field. "That bitch of a captain of yours thinks I've been abusin' you, rapin' you and shit. For all she knows I did, what with you waddlin' around sore as hell and that big ass bruise on your neck. Shit, I even tore your clothes apart."

She grinned brilliantly at him, stretching her neck and turning her head so that he could get a good look at the damage he caused her body. He loved the look of it on her pale skin—loved it because he did it to her while he was taking her, because now everyone that saw it would know she was taken. Why'd that bitch have to ruin it for him? "It was all very erotic," Katsue purred and he couldn't help but kiss her neck. "You never cared what other people thought before, Kenpachi," she drawled lazily in his ear, before biting down on his earlobe. He growled, before nipping at her neck. "Why should you care now? Screw the world." She bit down on his neck, hard.

With his own grin back on his face, Zaraki hurried to kick his hakama off his legs. Damn things felt cramped anyway, he rumbled with his huge purr, what with Katsue giving him a hard on every five minutes. Her nails dug into his back, and his reiatsu went bat shit crazy all over again. "I'd rather screw you," he laughed and wedged himself between her legs.

* * *

*blushing worse than Ichigo when he saw Yoruichi for the first time*

Quick side note, I changed the way I wrote a few names, in particular Kotetsu Isane's surname. It was difficult to track down the proper romaji spelling for it, because so many different fan sites or rings spell it in different ways (Koutetsu, Kotestu, etc). And of course I didn't even think of going back and looking in the manga for how the translator spelled it (totally gonna do it now). So I settled with the Wikipedia spelling, "Kotetsu", especially since it actually matched up with the kanji used to spell it. XD

Random fact: Katsue was originally named Calypta, because I suck at thinking up names and it's my standard name placeholder until I find one I like.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 9/?  
Rating: MA for smut and language.  
Warnings: Coarse language and **SMUT**, you hath been warned.  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. I am forever the slave to his world. Nanashi Katsuo is mine.  
A/N: It was a long time in coming, please forgive me for the slow update. I was struggling with writer's block (oh noes!) and a concussion from slamming my head on the keyboard in frustration. I cut this chapter shorter than I wanted to, but it was getting pretty long and I left off on a typically frustrating note for Zaraki. It works, I supposed.

* * *

Captain Unohana was forcing herself to take long, deep, calming breaths. Anger was not one of her traits, she reminded herself with each exhalation. Entertaining ideas of Captain Zaraki dead with a zanpakutou driven through his chest was not something she really wanted. But it was hard to convince herself of that when the huge man was sitting calmly next to her, his reiatsu bearing down on her. He was trying to intimidate her, she knew, and so far he was only succeeding in irritating her. She was a captain too; did he think she had no reiatsu worthy of the title?

"I am not going to kidnap her, Captain Zaraki," she spoke softly, not letting her eyes leave the ranks of healers and medics that were spread out around the training room in front of her. Katsue and Isane were going from one struggling medic to the next, helping them with any issues they had with today's lesson. Ever since they had begun training the select healers that would become field teams in the near future, Zaraki had accompanied Katsue to each training session. Despite neglecting his own duties.

He snorted derisively and shifted his immense weight, the sheath of his zanpakutou rattling around the blade in a silent threat. His eye never left Katsue's lithe body.

Breathe in seven counts…exhale seven counts…calm… "I apologize for being so gruff during our last encounter," her lips barely moved as she whispered hurriedly. "But you must give me credit for being concerned over Officer Nanashi's well being, especially during this important period of her career."

"She can take care of herself," was his rumbling reply. "Cut the chord, Unohana. You saved her ass and she knows it, now let her back out in the world to do what she thinks is best."

"Even though I think she is making a terrible mistake?" she spoke curtly. "You have brought her into the field without my permission, where I am fully aware she lost herself to that dangerous bloodlust your squad so loves. And now you are seducing her?"

"She's already been seduced, thank you very much," a slow grin spread across his face. "You know I ain't that bad of a guy, Unohana. You just don't like that she ain't mooning over some passive little twerp in your own squad who will shelter her like you did. Here's a news flash for you, she'd chew any guy like that up and spit him out, and there wouldn't be anything your squad could do to save the poor guy."

Unohana wasn't an idiot, she growled in the depths of her mind; she already knew Katsue would not find happiness with a man in her squad. That did not mean that she could not live as Unohana herself did, in a life of chastity. "Please do not let her fight again, Captain Zaraki."

"I don't let her do shit, she does whatever the hell she wants. And I ain't gonna tell her not to fight when she's doin' it to save her own ass, and these sad excuses of field medics you got. You do realize," he turned his head slowly, so that his deep black pit of an eye could stare at her, "that she's trainin' these whelps to be able to fight in the field if they have to? Why the hell else do you think she's so dead set on seein' 'em learn the fightin' tactics of whatever unfortunate squad they get assigned to?"

"This is not about them," her lip twitched ever so slightly in annoyance as she met his rock steady gaze. "That zanpakutou of hers is dangerous. The way that it affects her in combat will eventually get herself killed, if not, then the innocent men she fights to protect! You saw her, did you not, when she killed the Adjukaruu?"

He was grinning again. "Hottest thing I ever saw a woman do."

"You are an _idiot_."

"Never heard you insult somebody," he snorted a short laugh. "I'll take it as a compliment. Trust me with her, Unohana. Only way she'll get a hold of it is to use it."

"Coming from the man who doesn't even know his zanpakutou's name," she sniffed. He rumbled with laughter, drawing the eyes of every person in the room. Even Katsue paused as she leaned over a young woman fresh out of the academy to look up quizzically at the huge man.

**XXXX**

Training medics was a boring affair, Zaraki sighed and shifted where he sat, struggling to keep his heavy eyelids open. Katsue would get mad at him again, he thought as he fought to keep his attention on the small troupe of ten that she was currently working over in one of Squad Eleven's dojo. This ramshackle group was chosen by her and Unohana personally to serve as Zaraki's field unit, and so far he wasn't the least bit impressed.

He yawned widely, propped an elbow on his knee, and leaned his head into his massive hand. Nap time was now.

"Wake up, Ken-chan!" Yachiru screeched in his ear and he gave her a sidelong glance. Betrayed by his own vice captain, Zaraki heaved with another sigh and sat straight once again. Giggling, his little pink-haired charge flashed a thumbs-up to Katsue as she turned a coy smile in their direction. She had told Zaraki time and time again how important it was that he understood the inner machinations of his personal medic team, but the topic just seemed to tire the poor man out.

Maybe if he stopped keeping them both up late he could manage not to fall asleep during their drills.

"Kenpachi," she called over to him with a teasing smile on her lips. That seemed to get his attention, as his one visible eye snapped to her immediately. She could practically see him sitting up straighter with a new level of interest that was focused entirely on her body. "Madarame-sama and Ayasegawa-sama are still insisting on that training exercise."

His eye dulled as he let out a yawn. "Ain't interested."

"They did mention that it would be your entire commando squad versus you?"

"Done it plenty of times before," he drawled and went back to leaning his head into one massive palm, prepared to slip off into the ever welcoming embrace of deep sleep.

"I'll join in," she abruptly purred in his ear, stirring a beast deep inside him as he struggled to wake himself up. How the hell did that woman cross the room so quickly? He barely cracked an eye, just enough to see Katsue's little squad of medics blushing and fidgeting as they watched Katsue whisper into Zaraki's ear. "I can guarantee I'll be well worth your time."

His eye moved to her face, only mere inches away from his left ear. She was grinning that grin of hers, the one that dared him to play along, and promised one hell of a reward if he did. "You're gonna fight me?" he murmured into his hand. It piqued his interest, most definitely.

She nodded her head in the direction of her med team. "You play the hollow. I'll play the power-hungry captain bent on spilling your blood, with your squad at my back. They play doctor. And later…" her voice trailed off to a husky whisper as she leaned closer into his ear, "Later, I'll play doctor."

That did it, for sure. Zaraki rose to his feet slowly, like a giant panther lazily uncoiling from its nap in the sun. "Name your terms, woman," he drawled, feigning a lack of interest as he checked his zanpakutou at his hip. Yachiru absolutely bounced with excitement as she ran off to find Ikkaku and gather the rest of the squad.

"No killing," Katsue grinned smugly and gestured to her little team. They fell in behind them as Zaraki lead the way to the closest sparring field. "Do what you think a hollow would do. Attack me, your men, and my medics." At that Zaraki lifted one eyebrow and looked at her. She was still grinning her mischievous little grin. "If you incapacitate anyone for over an hour, you win. Yachiru will keep time."

One massive hand covered his mouth as he let out another huge yawn. "Kiddie's game," he rumbled before giving her his own grin. She replied by lifting her hand in some gesture, and her troupe of medics darted off to gods only knew where. Zaraki rumbled in excitement as Katsue's dainty hand grasped the hilt of her zanpakutou and drew it, ever so elegantly. The sun flashed against the naked blade as Zaraki backed onto the firm dirt of the practice field. As if the move were some secret signal, members from his squad suddenly appeared all around him. They were growling and grinning like a pack of stray dogs as they drew their own zanpakutou and fell into position.

Zaraki sighed as a new recruit tried a head on attack, only to have his blade fall still against the hard planes of Zaraki's chest. "No good," Zaraki drawled before grabbing the man's kimono and flinging him to the side. As the man soared through thin air, one of Katsue's medics appeared to wait at the spot he would land. The moment his body met warm earth, the medic gave him a once over before disappearing again. The man groaned in pain and struggled to his feet.

"Roar, Mouko Shuurajo!"

A thrill of exhilaration shot through Zaraki's entire body as he heard that oh so familiar battle cry. He barely had time to draw his own zanpakutou before spinning on one heel, catching Katsue's blade with his own. She was grinning the same grin as his men, her hair loose in a wild wave that followed her every motion. Spinning away from his blade, she sprung off one foot and twirled midair, bringing her leg around to kick him soundly in the head.

He only laughed, grabbed her ankle, and sent her flying. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to watch her sail through the air before Ikkaku was assaulting him, his own unsealed zanpakutou darting in to knick at his kimono in the form of that blasted glaive. The bald Shinigami was one of Zaraki's favorite people to spar with, despite the fact that he was terribly predictable. Ikkaku was just like him, after all—all straight forward power attacks, with little tactic behind it. But it always gave them both an opportunity to flex their muscles a bit and blow off some steam.

With one massive hand, Zaraki grabbed onto the long shaft of the zanpakutou and forcefully tugged Ikkaku towards him, pulling the Shinigami off his feet as he did. His other hand slammed into his face, splitting his lip. Ikakku only let out one of those feral cat cries of his before wrenching his zanpakutou free, slicing a huge gash along Zaraki's side in the process.

More Shinigami attacked, and Zaraki either beat them back or let their weak swords meet his hard reiatsu armor. He was getting terribly bored as one wave after the next of low ranking Shinigami fell to his casual fighting style, before he started to notice something odd: men he had knocked out cold were attacking him again. The kid with the blue hair he had left with a black eye, and now it was miraculously gone. And then Ikkaku attacked him again, and his split lip looked like nothing had ever happened to it.

Snarling, Zaraki caught sight of a medic as the small woman finished applying some type of balm to a downed man's broken arm. He swung his zanpakutou at the woman, only to have her dance lithely out of the way of the reiatsu blast, her wounded charge draped over one shoulder. Katsue appeared in front of her, the serrated edges of her zanpakutou flashing red as she swung with a powerful move of her lean arms.

"You're going easy on me!" he roared as the sword blade tore into the thick muscle of his bicep. Pain seared through his flesh in such an intoxicating way that for a moment, all Zaraki saw was Katsue. He could see the pure joy of fighting on her face as she danced out of the path of one of his massive blows, the medic she had saved disappearing into the melee.

Blades broke his skin, snapping his attention back onto the men who assaulted him. One sweep of his sword felled five, and six stepped up to take their places. Zaraki could just make out the small forms of Katsue's medics as they appeared at the downed men's sides, before disappearing with them. The bloody healers were good, he thought as he searched blindly around the field for wherever they were taking the wounded. He couldn't do a thorough search, not with the flashing blades coming towards him in all directions.

Some bounced off his skin, others nicked him in shallow cuts, but Ikkaku's blade sunk deep into his abdomen. "Pathetic," he snarled and brought his elbow down on the stupid zanpakutou, snapping the shaft clean through. He tugged the glaive head from his flesh and flung it right back at Ikkaku. "You all haven't learned shit! You, tighten your grip!" he disarmed another Shinigami. "Your footing is bad!" another he tripped and knocked flat on his ass. "And don't you ever be scared to hurt someone!" he bellowed as a soft touch of another man's sword lit on his arm, before Zaraki slammed his fist into the guy's nose. It crunched in a delightful way against the impact, and Zaraki fully enjoyed the sight of the man's broken nose spurting blood.

Katsue stepped in again, making room for another medic to tend Broken Nose as she engaged Zaraki in a series of blows and parries. She was so damn fast, he thought in annoyance as she dodged one sword stroke after the next, or just barely knocked his sword to the side. Maybe that was a good thing, because he sure wasn't planning on harming that beautiful hide of hers. But landing one good, solid blow wouldn't hurt, either.

The closest he got was a shallow cut along her chest that _really_ got his blood pumping.

Hours flew by, but they felt like mere minutes to Zaraki as he battled the same men over and over again. It was fun as hell to get a good long fight in, even if he wasn't fighting at full strength. The good thing was that he was at least fighting for a good portion of the day, and got to test his own endurance as well as that of his squad. Blood was oozing slowly from shallow cuts all over his arms and chest, and the gaping gash in his side from Ikkaku flowed sluggishly.

He grunted as a blade tore at his back. Spinning around, he met Katsue's harsh gray eyes as she scowled at him. "You still don't take me seriously," she drawled quietly, before slipping into a battle stance. She was utterly untouched besides the slash he had made.

Zaraki considered her for a moment, his head tilted to the side quizzically. Realization slowly dawned on him as he felt a prickling along his skin—the telltale sign of someone's reiatsu going on the fritz. He realized it was her when her zanpakutou shuddered in her hands, and his own replied with a similar gesture. The last time that kind of thing happened, he grinned slowly, was when he was fighting that Kurosaki kid. "I'm not interested in tryin' to kill my woman."

She snarled past a wry grin, her weight shifting back on her feet before she attacked. Their blades met with a clash of sparks, the serrated edge of her zanpakutou easily catching his. The sound of steel meeting steel grated through both their ears as Zaraki and Katsue's reiatsu-strengthened swords ground against each other, both struggling to break the other. With a roar Zaraki flooded his blade with pure strength, a surge of satisfaction rolling through his taught body as Katsue leapt away, their blades parting just in time. A crater formed where she had stood only moments before.

She was sweating and panting already, Zaraki grinned as she squared off to face him again. Her delicate brows were furrowed, a frown on her face, before she disappeared. Zaraki sighed and lowered his sword. The damn woman and her tricks, he thought as he tried to focus on _relaxing_. The thick muscles in his abdomen and chest were twitching to move and attack something. His arms felt like ants were crawling all over his hot skin.

He barely felt the wind change behind him, before he turned and lifted his blade up in time to block a blow. Katsue's stormy eyes were roiling as she let out a fierce battle cry, her bright red reiatsu flaring up and bearing down on him. He laughed as his feet sank into the ground, a crater forming around him.

She was challenging him.

"You got a long way to go to stand up to me, woman," he growled as a familiar thrill ran up his spine. It was the same tingly sensation that he got every time she played hard to get or when she taunted him in public. It was bloody arousing to see this fierce woman of his openly challenging his dominance.

"And you're slowing down, old man," she drawled in defiance before leaping back out of his sword reach. He didn't have time to follow her with a counter attack, as blades were flashing through the air aimed directly at him.

He reacted without thought, his body honed through hundreds of years of fighting to make automatic responses. With his feet settled firmly in the dirt, Zaraki swung his sword up and around, parrying several weak zanpakutou and breaking another's blade, before he swept it down onto Ikkaku's glaive. The man let out a harsh battle cry as he heaved with all his strength, just barely lifting Zaraki's zanpakutou before he could take a step into his defense. The air left Zaraki's chest in rush as Ikkaku slammed the blunt end of his weapon into the wound in Zaraki's side.

His reiatsu flared like a super nova, and Ikkaku fell back on to his ass. Yumichika was sprawled out in a manner that the man would have deemed most inappropriate, if he were conscious, only a few meters behind his fallen friend. Laughing, Zaraki swept his zanpakutou behind him and felt his reiatsu incapacitate another flock of men.

Katsue was the last one standing, giving him a dismayed look as her frantic medics went from one man to the next. "That was hardly fair," she scolded him and dipped the tip of her sword. Zaraki rumbled at her challenge and charged, his yellow reiatsu burning like a fierce fire around his immense bulk. With a savage roar he struck, only to feel his blade collide harshly with hers. He snarled with that manic grin of his as he bore down harder onto her, watching her face screw up in concentration as she flooded her blade with the deep red of her own reiatsu.

The ground buckled under Katsue's feet and she stumbled. Zaraki swung his sword out from them both, knocking her blade from her hand as she caught her balance. Roaring with laughter he swept her up in his arms. "When you get these pieces of shit Shinigami back on their feet," he bellowed to the startled medics, "you tell them to get their asses back to training!"

And with Katsue screaming and snarling in his arms, he grabbed her naked sword in a hand and loped off towards his rooms. "You are a bloody brute!" she shouted at him as she pummeled his chest with her small fists.

"Don't be a sore loser," he rumbled and practically broke down the door to the officers' dormitory. He finally set her down, making sure her feet were steady on the wood floor before he pressed close to her, bullying her backwards down the hall to his room. Grinning, he watched as she snatched her zanpakutou from his hand and brandished it at him. Even though she was yowling and spitting at him like a wild cat, she didn't have the anger behind her as her blade fell harmlessly against his chest. She had hurt him more with a needle when she was stitching his wounds.

"You went easy on me!" she pouted as he brushed her sword away, contenting himself as he heard the blade lodge itself into the wooden floor. He rumbled with a gentle laugh as her hands loosened his obi. Even as she gave him an annoyed look she was inspecting the wounds under his kimono, her hands soft and warm. She murmured something about more stitches before he shrugged his haori and kimono off his huge shoulders.

"I like this," he drawled huskily as her soft touch eased up his firm abdomen. Unconsciously he slid the door to his room shut behind him, before his own massive hands started to shed her of her kimono. "Gettin' the shit beat out of me and then havin' you nurse me back to health."

"I don't like it when people underestimate me, Kenpachi," she purred as his body pressed close to her. The blood and sweat that covered nearly every inch of his body didn't bother her as he pushed her up against his desk. Her nails dug into his chest as his pelvis ground into her, eliciting a sharp groan from Zaraki as his head bowed to kiss her neck. He was being remarkably gentle, she thought as her kimono fell off her slender shoulders, almost as if he were trying to pacify her. "How am I supposed to get stronger when you treat me like a porcelain doll?"

He snorted against the warmth of her neck, before his hot breath whispered in her ear, "Ain't nothin' porcelain 'bout you." Gently, he lifted her hips off the desk long enough to whisk her hakama and panties down her hips and thighs. "Go train with Ikkaku. That Abarai guy from the Sixth came a long way just sparrin' with the kid."

"He's no fun," she breathed as her hands tugged his hakama down. With a slight groan her body welcomed his without hesitance, her long, slender legs wrapping reflexively around his hips. "He's all power attacks…no strategy," she sighed in content.

"Same as me," his voice was taught with strain as he ground into her, slow and firm.

"You are on a much grander scale," her voice purred as she buried her hands into his hair, lifting his head up from her neck so that she could stare into his black eye. With a coy smile she tore his eye patch off, and immediately his eyes flashed gold and his reiatsu filled his room with a heavy pressure. It stole her breath as she arched against him. "All raw power…" she whispered, "with finesse for finding weak spots."

"I thought they were called erogenous zones," he growled deeply and angled his hips in the perfect way to elicit a low, long groan from her pink lips. He grinned and swept the shit off his desk with one move of his arm, his heavy hand pushing against her chest until she lay flat against the sturdy oak. The way she laid out under him, her back arching in a beautiful curve as his hot hand ran down her chest to grip her side…gods, he rumbled in content.

He had her sweating and panting in a matter of moments, her voice taught as she moaned his name over and over again. The way she choked out the "Ke", and got caught up on the "n" and picking up on the "pa", the "chi" just rolling off her lips in a gasp…never before had his name coming from someone's lips felt so _erotic_. He was proud of himself for keeping a reign on his raging hormones, as he gently ground deep into her body, nice and slow…

A chime rang out, and Zaraki cursed under his breath. Katsue's eyes opened slightly as she looked up at him, the question plain on her face: What the hell was that?

The chime rang again and the atmosphere in the room changed. Zaraki snarled in defiance and slammed his hands down on the desk, gripping his thick fingers around the edges of the wood as his self-control lapsed. He thrust into her, effectively putting all of her attention back on to him.

"Thirteen Protection Squads, Eleventh Squad, emergency!" a voice rang through the room, and Zaraki heaved with a huge sigh as Katsue's hands latched on to his forearms.

"Ignore it," he snarled and leaned over her, clamping his teeth onto her neck. She gasped and writhed under him, her glassy eyes searching the darkness for the hell butterfly.

"Hollows have appeared in the severing world, and will be breaching Soul Society in two minutes and counting! Emergency! Eleventh Squad, report!"

"Kenpachi…" she groaned, her brows furrowing as Zaraki's hands slammed down onto the damned hell butterfly that lighted on the desk next to her head. It was so hard to focus, when he was trying his damnedest to turn her brain into a puddle of mush. "Zaraki! We must go."

"Ignore it," he repeated and slammed his hips into her, she cried out, her head knocking back against the wood.

"Captain Zaraki Kenpachi, report!" the hell butterfly screeched and wriggled out from under Zaraki's massive hand. Scowling at the damned thing, Zaraki was momentarily pacified as Katsue's arms wrapped around his neck as she held on to him, her body rocking under his as her mouth latched on to his own neck. She bit, hard enough to break his skin, and he rumbled with pleasure.

"Call in the Sixth Squad," he growled to the blasted butterfly as it flitted around his head, knocking into his skull a couple of times.

"Sixth Squad is currently in the field. Commander Yamamoto demands that the Eleventh report for duty immediately! We have a breach!" the thing's voice filled the room, panic growing in the girl's voice that spoke through the stupid thing. "What is taking you so long!"

"I'm busy!" he roared as Katsue cried out, her body tightening around him in that tell tale way. Gods damn it, he cursed as he tried to focus back onto her supple, warm body. He was trying to bloody enjoy this moment, didn't they know that? "We're decommissioned. Training accident," he grunted breathlessly as the muscles in his own abdomen started to tighten in response to her body.

"C-c-c-captain Zaraki!" the girl gasped as realization sunk in. "That is most indecent! You are to report on duty immediately!"

"That is an order, Captain!" old man Yamamoto's voice barked harshly from the hell butterfly, and all the drive seemed to evaporate in Zaraki's body.

A slew of curses flew from Zaraki's mouth in snarls, growls, and hissing spits as he slammed the damn butterfly against the desk again, reveling in the feel of its spirit particles dissipating into thin air. But it was too late, her mourned as his sex drive seemed to fall flat. Katsue was panting heavily under him, her mouth against his ear as she whispered her own soft curses.

Snarling, Zaraki pulled away from her and out of her hot embrace. He was still snarling angry curses and threatening oaths as he yanked his hakama up over his hips, hiding his aching need as Katsue sat up on her elbows.

"Kenpachi…" her voice was soft, soothing as he hunted for her clothes. His eyes were positively glowing with anger, his yellow irises illuminating her naked body as he looked at her. His massive shoulders were slumped, his brows drawn together, and his thin lips pressed into a scowl.

"That woulda been the best orgasm of your life," he snarled and went back to her, gently guiding her legs into her own hakama. Screw panties, he thought as she laughed huskily. As he pulled the thick cloth up her well built thighs, she angled her hips towards him and parted her legs provocatively. He snarled again. "Don't taunt me."

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As always, comments are loved! =) I'll update again soon.


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 10/?  
Rating: MA for smut and language.  
Warnings: Coarse language, and adult themes.  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. I am forever the slave to his world. Nanashi Katsue is mine.  
A/N: What the flux? Two updates in two days? Miraculous. Writing this made my heart ache. :( Short, sweet, and to the point.

* * *

There was a permanent snarl on Zaraki's face as he stalked across the huge expanse of prairie grass that stretched out in front of him. He was emanating anger, his reiatsu manifesting in a yellow aura that burned like a wild fire over every inch of his skin. It licked out angrily at the group of officers that flanked him, but gently caressed the presence of the woman that stood slightly behind him. Katsue was irritated herself, but her spirit power was reigned in neatly as she scowled at Zaraki's broad back.

Ikkaku and Yumichika didn't wait for their captain's orders as they neared the battlefield, where a group of young hollow screamed and roared and taunted the early responders from Squad Eleven. They leapt off the moment the aura shifted around Captain Zaraki Kenpachi, and as they raced towards the hollows, Zaraki slowly drew his blade.

Snarling like a feral wolf, Zaraki maintained his stalking pace. His zanpakutou was humming in his hand, screaming with the same blood lust he felt to rip, tear, and rend. The minute he saw his two officers engage, Zaraki roared and charged. Katsue didn't pause as she followed him, her sleek zanpakutou in her hands as she followed in the wake of his reiatsu.

"Ma'am! Orders?" the young woman that Katsue had placed as the sergeant of Zaraki's medical squad had to shout to be heard over the wind rushing in their ears.

"Fall back and wait for casualties," she barked in reply. A growl tore out of her throat as the girl disappeared to their rendezvous location, and Zaraki tore into the first hollow.

It was a quick, short, bloody melee. Whatever possessed such a young group of hollow to attack soul society, and then stand up to the Eleventh Squad, Katsue would never know. But she barely had time to wet her blade before it was all over. Zaraki stood in the midst of a pile of decaying corpses, his chest heaving as he glanced around himself. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed.

Damn it.

For good measure, he roared his anger and buried his sword into the mauled head of a dead hollow, savoring in the feel of steel easily parting flesh and bone. Black blood covered him from head to toe, sticking in his hair and weighing down his bells. "I need a bath," he spat on the corpse as the tension in his body slowly dissipated. Well, fighting did come second on his list of physical releases that he immensely enjoyed, right after sex. Even if it was a far second.

His yellow eyes swept over the face of his officers. They met his stare head on, Ikkaku grinning stubbornly as he flashed his still broken zanpakutou at Zaraki. With a short bark of laughter, Zaraki stepped from his grizzly throne and on to the blood-matted grass. His mood was immensely improved as he searched for the one face he cared about at the moment.

When he found it, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Katsue kneeled in the dirt, her sheathed zanpakutou at her side, and one fist planted in the ground as the other braced herself on her knee. Her head was down in stark obedience as High Commander Yamamoto loomed over her. They were too far away for Zaraki to hear what the old fart was saying to her, but he knew it wasn't good. The old man never had anything good to say.

He watched, the growl in his chest falling silent, as Katsue's head dipped in a short nod. Her hair was still loose and obscured her face from his view, but he didn't need to see her frown to know she was doing it. He could read her frustration and anger in her body language.

High Commander Yamamoto looked up from the obedient girl at his feet to look at Captain Zaraki. With a nod so slight that Zaraki didn't even see it, the old man turned and walked away, his vice captain falling into step beside him.

"The fuck did he want?" Zaraki growled low in his voice as Yachiru's little hand reached up to grab on to one of his fingers. The little girl had been waiting at the sidelines like she always did, but had rushed to her Ken-chan's side when she saw the look on his face.

"I 'unno," she spoke softly and squeezed the thick finger in her grip. Zaraki's hand wrapped around hers reflexively, even as he started to prowl towards his woman, who still kneeled in the dirt.

"Get on your damn feet," he barked irritably as he came to a stop a few meters away from her. "The bastard's gone."

Katsue didn't look at him as her hand grabbed her zanpakutou and cradled it against her chest. Slowly, as if she were sore, she rose to her feet and turned to him. When she looked up, her hair parted like a curtain to show a stubbornly cool look on her face. "How was the battle?" she spoke quietly, but strongly.

He snorted and cast another glare at the retreating backs of the high commander and his second. "Satisfying. Did the old man feel like ruining our night more?"

"He was reminding me of my duties, Captain Zaraki," she murmured and turned, heading back towards the Eleventh Squad headquarters.

Zaraki's head snapped back as if she had slapped him. What the hell did that mean? he growled to himself as he stalked after her, Yachiru stumbling to keep up with his long strides. And she bloody called him _Captain_ Zaraki again! "What'd he say?"

"He reminded me of my place, I told you that," Katsue replied simply.

"What the fuck does that mean?" he snarled and reached out to roughly grab her arm. She tore herself away from him, before silently disappearing in to the night.

"Ken-chan, something is wrong," Yachiru whined and sniffed back a tear as Zaraki halted where he stood. "I don't like this!"

"Me either," he grunted as he stared across the prairie, trying to look for any sign of Katsue. He knew he wouldn't find any; she was simply too fast for him to keep up with.

**XXXX**

Something most definitely was up, Zaraki grumbled to himself as he crossed his thick arms across his chest. Something was always up when Unohana showed up at his headquarters when he wasn't injured, and here she was, sitting quietly on the floor across from him and patiently sipping at her tea. Yachiru fidgeted uncomfortably on her cushion next to him, her eyes darting from first Zaraki and then to Unohana. The woman had simply shown up before the noon meal, all soft smiles and kind words. She had ignored his gruff disposition and asked for tea with him as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do.

The hell it was.

"The medic teams are coming along quite nicely," Unohana spoke in that quiet, cheerful tone of hers as she took a deep breath, savoring the smells wafting from her tea cup. "Captain Kuchiki has expressed his gratitude for his team several times. How is yours coming along, Captain Zaraki?"

"Cram the small talk," he snarled and glared down his strong, angular nose at her. "The hell do you want, Unohana?"

She only smiled kindly at him, before taking another sip from her tea. "How have you been lately, Captain Zaraki?"

He had been irritable, pissed, and flat out frustrated. Katsue hadn't returned to his rooms the night she ran off, and she hadn't even opened her clinic. He didn't even know if she was in that stupid building of hers, because no one came or went. If she was pulling that same shit on him again like after her first fight out in the field, he had a few choice words to say to her. After he reminded her that he was a man with needs that only she could satisfy, and she was neglecting that fact.

"Fine," he snarled in reply.

Unohana's eyebrows furrowed slightly as concern crossed her face. "Fine?"

"Yeah, fuckin' fine. Why the hell do you ask?" he growled. Yachiru placed a small hand on his leg, a silent signal for him to calm down. To hell with that.

Unohana cleared her throat slightly as she set her cup down on the table between them. "No one told you," she said simply.

"Told me what?" he snapped, his one visible eye flashing yellow in irritation. Despite beating the shit out of Ikkaku and Yumichika every day for the past week in the dojo, nothing could cool his mood with Katsue hiding from him. His reiatsu had been on the fritz because of it.

Unohana's jaw dropped slightly in blatant surprise, before she seemed to remember her decorum. "Officer Nanashi—"

"What about her?" his voice was low, a threatening growl as he leaned over the table. His hand was on his zanpakutou, ready to decapitate the woman.

She swallowed a knot in her throat. "High Commander Yamamoto has given her a new assignment. Did she not tell you? I came to make sure you were taking it okay."

A dead weight settled in the pit of Zaraki's stomach. "What?"

"High Commander Yamamoto assigned her to a post in Karakura Town, to assist the local Shinigami and Shinigami Substitute in much the same manner as her medic teams assist the Gotei Thirteen. She left last week, after the hollow breached Sereitei. Did she not tell you?" Unohana's hands had fallen limp in her lap as she spoke, her eyes growing wide in surprise.

Yachiru's eyes welled up with restrained tears as she looked up at her Ken-chan. His face was dead, emotionless. He wasn't even scowling at Braid-head anymore. She didn't understand. "Nana-chan is gone?" her voice was a soft squeak.

Silently, Zaraki rose to his feet. Unohana scrambled to stand with him, as manners dictated, but before she had her feet under herself he was already walking out of the room. She followed hesitantly, with Yachiru clinging to her haori. Zaraki headed straight outside and across the courtyard between the officers' dormitory to Katsue's clinic. He yanked the front door open with little effort, the door splintering from the lock, before he disappeared inside.

Unohana momentarily thought to stop him, and explain that what he was doing was breaking and entering, but then common sense caught up to her. He wouldn't care that he was breaking into Katsue's house—not after she had just told him that the woman he cared for had left without a word. She followed into the dark clinic room, and slowly made her way up the stairs.

Yachiru wailed and ran to Zaraki's side as they came to Katsue's room. It was completely barren, save the large dresser, desk and bed that were pressed against the walls. No clothes filled the drawers that Zaraki had torn open in a fevered haste. Her closet was empty. There were no linens on her modern bed. There was no clutter that usually accompanied a lived-in room. No items of personal significance. Her desk top was bare. Zaraki was slouched on her bed, his elbows on his knees and his black pit of an eye staring blankly at nothing.

Unohana covered her mouth as her own eyes stung with tears. She hadn't cried in decades, but to see this man—Captain Zaraki himself—in such a state…

"Where's Nana-chan!" Yachiru screamed and tugged at Zaraki's haori. Tears were pouring down her round cheeks, marking trails in the thin layer of dust that had accumulated on her face from her day of playing outside. "Where is she, Ken-chan! Where! Where did she go!"

Zaraki was silent as he moved, one of his huge arms wrapping around Yachiru's waist and pulling her up on to his lap. His eyes were still empty as Yachiru buried her face against his chest, her tiny fists clenched in his clothes, as she screamed and cried. His massive hand stroked her head absently.

"She ain't comin' back, is she?" he spoke in a soft rumble.

Unohana cleared her suddenly tight throat as she spoke up, "Not for a decade. Arrangements were made with Urahara Kisuke for an artificial body and clinic space. High Commander Yamamoto wants to test to see if a medic's presence will also reduce the casualty rate of Shinigami stationed in the real world."

Zaraki nodded slowly as Yachiru's crying grew louder. He turned his eye on to Unohana, and she shuddered as she met his dead gaze. "You didn't stop her, eh?"

"High Commander Yamamoto did not ask me, he did not tell me, until she was gone. An order from him is almost a law," she spoke quietly, for once not offended that he was trying to blame something on her. For some reason, it felt as if he were simply trying to wrap his head around what happened rather than accusing her of sabotaging his relationship with Katsue.

He nodded again before resting his head against Yachiru's. His thick arms held the little girl as great sobs wracked her little body. "Where'd Momma go," she cried against Zaraki's chest. "Why!"

"She'll be back, squirt," he murmured, his dead eye still watching Unohana.

"In ten years!" she screamed, her small fists pounding against his chest. "Why would she go! Why didn't she say anything!"

Unohana took a deep, steadying breath as Zaraki's eye shut. He was murmuring soothing things to the little girl in his arms as she wailed her pain. It was heart shattering to see the pink-haired vice captain expressing the emotions Unohana was sure they both felt. But Zaraki was as cold and strong as ever as he simply held her, rocking her gently against his chest. Yachiru was his heart, it seemed. But his soul was gone.

"Let me know if there is anything I can do," she spoke softly before bowing deep from the waist, the most respectful bow she had ever given to Captain Zaraki Kenpachi of the Eleventh Squad. He didn't say anything as she slowly backed out of the room, and nearly fled Katsue's small clinic.

Yachiru's wails and sobs chased her into the burning light of Sereitei, and Zaraki's dead face was all Unohana could picture in her mind's eye. It was odd, she thought for a moment as she hurried back to her own squad's headquarters, that the weather could be so beautiful when there was so much pain and grief in the world. For once, she did not stop to enjoy the rows of flowers that decorated the base of the pillars to her section of Seireitei. Katsue had helped her plant them, and now the woman was gone; the woman that had been as a daughter to her for the past one hundred years.

A tear welled up in Unohana's eye, and slowly rolled down the gentle planes of her cheek.

* * *

*clings to a box of tissues*

AT LEAST I GET TO WRITE ICHIGO AND KISUKE IN THE NEXT CHAPTER?! MAYBE?! We shall see!


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 11/?  
Rating: MA for smut and language.  
Warnings: Coarse language, adult themes, and it's starting to get angsty.  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. I am forever the slave to his world. Nanashi Katsue is mine.  
A/N: I love Urahara. My next story should be about him.

* * *

Kurosake Ichigo had a look on his face that was difficult to place. It was somewhere between flabbergasted, amused, and insulted. It was a look that Inoue Orihime had seen plenty of times, and could still never place properly. She stood up on her tip toes and stared at his flat eyes, then looked to what he was staring at. She didn't get it.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ichigo finally spoke up, one of his orange eyebrows twitching as he pointed an accusing finger at Urahara Kisuke.

The man _giggled_. "Getting a gigai ready! What else?" he drawled excitedly and gestured to the naked, featureless, life-size doll that was laid out on his dinner table. "Oi, Kurosaki-kun, there're so many new Shinigami coming through town ever since you came around. Business has been booming!" the blonde giggled again before taking a deep pull from the gourd canteen he held in one delicate hand. His cheeks were red as he bent back over his work, swaying where he sat.

Ichigo stared at the thing, a blush rising in his cheeks as he watched Urahara shape an impressive set of breasts on the doll. "What the hell!"

"Come! Sit!" Urahara absently slapped at the empty cushion on the floor beside him. "I will give you an anatomy lesson. There is nothing more delightful than knowing the inner workings of a woman's body!"

"You're a fucking pervert!" Ichigo bellowed even as Orihime clapped her hands together gleefully, and darted to Urahara's side. "Inoue! You shouldn't be lookin' at that!" he balked.

"Don't be so innocent, Kurosaki-kun," Urahara drawled in a soft whine as he looked over his shoulder at him. The man was most definitely drunk, if not, well on his way. "You have to learn some time! Who better to teach you than your sensei, Urahara?"

"You ain't my sensei," Ichigo sniffed and spun around on one heel, stubbornly folding his arms over his well muscled chest as he glowered at the wall. His face felt hot with a blush as Orihime squealed with delight behind him.

"Make the boobs bigger, Urahara-sama!" she clapped her hands excitedly.

"Would you like to do the right one, Orihime-kun?" Urahara drawled, much to the girl's delight. Her hands darted to the gigai, molding shapes and objects into the doll.

"Oh come on!" Ichigo swore under his breath and covered his ears. "Just tell me why the hell you wanted us here!"

Urahara let out a huge sigh as he cast a resigned look over his shoulder at the orange-haired boy. He was still dressed in his school clothes, all wrinkled and everything. "You are a buzz kill," he said simply. "Orihime-kun, could you please go to the closet over there and pick an outfit out for my customer? Something with a little red in it. I'm thinking capris and a blouse."

"Okay!" Orihime sang happily as she darted back on her feet and headed in the direction that Urahara had pointed at.

"She's too damn excited over this," Ichigo cursed as he watched Orihime, his cheeks still red.

"Oi, Kurosaki-ku-u-u-un." Ichigo yelped as Urahara leaned against him, one heavy arm draped over the smaller man's shoulders. His breath reeked of sake as he grinned, his lazy eyes staring into Ichigo's. "Tell me, any new interesting reiatsu in the area lately?"

"Gerrof me!" Ichigo grumbled and tried to shrug the man off, only to have Urahara latch on to him tighter.

"Slacker! You haven't been working on your reiatsu detection, have you?" Urahara giggled and took another pull from his gourd. "She's upstairs, debriefing Free Loader. You will like her, I think. Very nice body, great hips," to demonstrate, Urahara made a wavy line through the air with one long finger.

"That's Kurosaki Ichigo?" a calm voice drew both their attentions over their shoulders, towards the bottom of the stair case.

Urahara's eyes lit up as he finally let go of Ichigo's shoulder. "Ah, Nanashi-kun!"

Ichigo blushed and fixed his best scowl on his face as he glared over his shoulder at the woman that stood at the base of the steps, with Abarai Renji beside her. Renji had that stubborn "to hell with you" look on his face as he cast Ichigo a quick glance. "Yeah, that's me," Ichigo spoke coldly as the woman looked him up from head to toe, her gray eyes cold and calculating.

She huffed a short laugh, before her lips curled in a coy grin that had Ichigo blushing harder. Before he knew it, her zanpakutou was drawn and slicing through the air, right at his head.

"Hey!" he barked and barely managed to dive out of the way before her bare blade could touch him. He glared at her, his hand darting to his Substitute Shinigami badge. She stood slowly, right where he had been only a split second ago, her sword sliding easily into the sheath at her hip. "What the hell was that!"

"The kid's got speed," the woman sniffed before turning back to Urahara. The minute her eyes saw the tipsy shopkeeper, and the gigai lain out behind him, her eyes went flat. "Did you really need to play with my gigai?"

Urahara sighed again, his eyes rolling, before he straightened his bucket hat. "None of you have a sense of fun," he whined and gestured at the gigai, which now had grossly exaggerated hips and breasts. Orihime had added her own touch, molding the pale white skin into a set of ridiculously buff arms. "Hop in and we'll get you fitted."

Still scowling at the strange woman, Ichigo watched as she prowled towards the gigai. She moved like a predator, her hips rolling in an easy grace and swaying provocatively. Frowning, Ichigo ripped his eyes away from her body—she did have nice hips—and glared at Renji. The red head glared back. "Who the hell is she?"

"My name is Nanashi Katsue," the woman barked in reply, before she seemed to lay right on top of the gigai. Ichigo watched, stunned into silence, as the doll and her spirit body seemed to meld together. Slowly, the gigai started to writhe and bubble, before it settled in around her form.

Eyes wide, Ichigo now stared shamelessly at the naked woman laid out on the table. It took him a moment to realize it, and when he did he turned around and murmured apologies that rolled off his tongue.

Urahara giggled again. "Orihime-kun, how is it coming along?"

"Great! I found a lot of good outfits! I didn't know you had such a great taste in clothes, Urahara-sama!" Orihime fell silent as she bounced back into the room, her eyes going wide as she looked at the suddenly life-like gigai on the table. When it moved, the delicate hands flexing as the head lifted to stare at the hands, she cried out. "Out! Get out!" she shouted and dropped her arm load of clothes.

Ichigo blubbered more apologies as Renji shouted curses at the top of his lungs and Urahara simply giggled like a pervert as Orihime bustled them all out of the room, slamming the rice paper door closed behind them. She rushed as she went back to the gigai, watching as hair miraculously sprouted from the bald head. It was beautiful, she thought, even as she offered the woman a large hooded sweatshirt to cover herself.

A blush lit on the woman's cheeks as she nodded her thanks. "That bastard told me that clothes shaped during this process, too," the woman muttered.

Orihime giggled, and offered her more clothes. "My name is Inoue Orihime! Nice to meet you."

Katsue blushed as she stared at the pair of fire engine red panties that Orihime handed her, with a matching lace bra. It was a lot like the set of lingerie that Zaraki had torn apart with his teeth only a few weeks—she flinched and tried not to think about it. "Thank you. I'm Nanashi Katsue."

Orihime simply beamed at her, and helped her sit up on the table. Her gigai's joints were still moving stiffly as the damned thing adjusted to her reiatsu and spirit energy, the material that made it shifting suddenly to fill out properly. In a matter of moments, everything felt as it should. Even if Katsue felt like she was wearing a layer of plastic around her entire body, the gigai fit perfectly and reacted to her merest thoughts. "Do you know how to put these on?" Orihime offered helpfully as Katsue's hands ran over the intricate lace bra.

Blushing more, Katsue nodded before fitting the provocative piece of cloth over her breasts and around her chest. "Matsumoto-sama taught me… You have met her, correct?"

"Oh, yes! Matsumoto-chan is a wonderful person," Orihime was pure joy as she went to Katsue's back to adjust her bra straps for her. She held the pair of jeans she had out to Katsue as she rose to her feet, her long, slender legs gleaming in the soft light of Urahara's workshop. "Are you from her squad?"

Smiling softly, Katsue took the strange hakama and slowly slipped her legs down the pant holes. She pulled them up slowly, frowning as the cloth grew tighter and tighter. "No…I am from the Fourth Squad—"

"Ah! A medic! Do you know Hanatarou-kun?" Orihime was almost bouncing with excitement, so much like Yachiru…

Katsue nodded and yanked the jeans up over her hips, a frown turning on her lips. "Are these supposed to be so tight…?" she trailed off and stared at the odd contraption on the front of her jeans. What the blazes…?

"Mhm," Orihime giggled softly, kindly, before her delicate hands latched on to the front of Katsue's jeans. "That's a button," she explained and slowly showed the older woman how to fit the little round piece of metal through the provided hole. "And this is a zipper; you just yank it up and down. Don't ever forget to zip it up! If not, your panties will show and people will laugh."

Katsue was blushing furiously as the girl let go, her kind face beaming supportively as Katsue stared down at the jeans on her body. They hugged her almost as tight as the gigai hugged her spirit body, and hung much lower than her traditional hakama. She wriggled her hips experimentally.

"They look good on you," Orihime reassured her, before handing her a navy blue, thin-clothed shirt. Katsue scowled at the sad piece of cloth, thinking it was another piece of odd lingerie she hadn't seen before. "That's a tank top. You fit it on like a T-shirt."

"A T-shirt?" Katsue's brows furrowed closer together as she turned the cloth in her hands.

"Like this," Orihime took the shirt back gently, and showed Katsue the large hole that was hidden between the broadest parts of the cloth. "Slip it over your head, with your arms going through those holes there…" Orihime pulled the cloth over Katsue's arms as the taller woman bowed slightly to accommodate. "And you just pull it down and make sure it's covering your lady bits!"

Sighing in frustration, Katsue stood there, looking down at Orihime's gentle hands as the girl straightened the thin fabric around her body. The shirt was tighter than the pants! "This is all so complicated."

"You'll learn fast. Urahara-sama said he taught Rukia-chan how to get dressed in an hour, and he never had to show her again!" Orihime offered the woman the bright red blouse she had found.

"That I can do," Katsue said proudly as she recognized the familiar shape. It fitted over her arms just like a kimono. "Where is the obi?" her brows shot into her forehead as she struggled to pull the cloth together over her chest. There simply wasn't enough fabric! And it was littered with a row of those weird things called buttons…

"We don't wear obi with modern clothes," the human explained and started buttoning the shirt on Katsue's shoulders. She stopped the minute she fit the button right bellow her breasts together. "Leave it open like that, I think…" Orihime took a step back to look Katsue over from head to toes. Finally, Orihime beamed and clapped her hands together. "You look great, Nanashi-sama!"

The compliment put a shy smile on Katsue's face, and colored her cheeks with a soft blush.

"Are you freakin' done yet?" Ichigo barked in irritation from the other side of the door. Immediately Katsue was scowling again, her hand flexing at her hip for her zanpakutou and closing on thin air.

Her gray eyes grew wide and shocked as she looked at her hip. "My zanpakutou!" she screeched and spun around on the spot, searching the room for her beloved blade. "Where is it?"

"Oi, Nanashi-sama, calm down," Urahara was grinning that lazy grin of his as he pushed back into the room, Renji and Ichigo blushing behind him. "You can't go walking around the human world with a sword on your hip. It is with your spirit body, but not your gigai."

"How the hell!" the woman was panicking as her hand gripped at her gigai's hip again, scratching and tearing at the thick jean cloth that hugged her hips. "How do I get it back?"

With a gleeful laugh, Urahara prodded her with his cane. With a loud pop and rush of air, her spirit body separated from her gigai, leaving the empty shell to collapse on the floor in an ungraceful heap.

Katsue was hyperventilating as her hands latched back around the familiar hilt of her sword. Eyes wide, she stared at the gigai then at Urahara. "How…?"

Urahara shrugged, and took a pull at his sake gourd. "I'm good," he drawled and waggled his pale eyebrows.

Renji sighed and rolled his eyes. "If we're done fuckin' around, I gotta brief Ichigo."

"No shit. What the hell is goin' on?" Ichigo snarled and grabbed the red headed Shinigami by the front of his shirt, forcing the man to face him head on. Renji was scowling calmly down his nose at him, one massive hand knocking Ichigo's from his clothes. "Who the hell is she?"

"I already told you," Katsue snapped irritably. She was losing patience, and the fright of being without her zanpakutou for the first time since she first bonded with Mouko Shuurajo still had her startled. "My name is Nanashi Katsue."

"That don't tell me shit," Ichigo snapped back, his orange eyebrows drawn together angrily.

Renji sighed again. "She's Third Officer Nanashi Katsue, of Squad Four. High Commander Yamamoto sent her here to be our medic and to hold clinic hours."

"Nanashi-sama, are you a doctor?" Orihime's eyes were wide as she helped Katsue settle back into her gigai. Before her spirit body and gigai could merge together, Katsue stroked the hilt of her zanpakutou one last time. She sighed, mourning the absence at her hip, as her gigai fit around her like the shell it was.

"Yes," Katsue growled softly and turned her roiling gray eyes on to Ichigo. "I am trained both in the clinic and in the field, and have extensive battle training."

"She used to be in the Eleventh," Renji explained as Ichigo gave the woman a flat look. "Transferred over to the Fourth when Zaraki—" he fell silent abruptly, looking away from the angry gray eyes that flashed to his face.

Ichigo sniffed. "What, did that great block head get to be too much for you?" he drawled, drawing Katsue's eyes back on to him. "Don't blame you. All he thinks of is fightin'."

Renji backed away slowly from the ignorant high school student, pulling Urahara's door wide open beside him. He could feel Katsue's reiatsu roiling with anger, just like those stormy eyes of hers. "I'd shut yer mouth, Ichigo."

"What? I'm sayin' I can sympathize. I don't think I'd be able to put up working under Kenpachi. That guy is too much for me, throwin' his strength around like he owns the place," Ichigo rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest.

Katsue didn't need her zanpakutou to throw Ichigo through the open door, and send him crashing into the room on the other side. She didn't need a sword to stalk after him, her lithe body burning with anger as she picked Ichigo up by the collar. "Don't say his name again!" she screamed in his face and sent him flying again, right through the front door and into Urahara's small courtyard.

Urahara giggled, and drew a long drink from his gourd. "Make sure you clean up after yourself, Kurosaki-kun," he sang cheerily.

Ichigo lay in the dirt for a few moments, blinking stupidly up at the pristine blue sky with its white tufts of clouds. Slowly, he sat up and stared up at the woman that loomed over him on the porch. She was silent now, her face unusually calm as she also stared up into the sky. The wind picked up, blowing her loose auburn hair around her face.

With a heavy sigh, Katsue tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stepped off the porch, going to Ichigo's side. He watched her warily, scowling at the hand she offered him. "Sorry," she murmured, and gave him a weak smile. "Zaraki Kenpachi is a good man, and a great captain. I would die for him."

Ichigo stared at her suddenly kind face for a moment, before he sniffed and took her hand. She hauled him up on to his feet with one smooth move. He scowled at her as he dusted off his school uniform. "He is," he sniffed simply. "Hell of a fighter. Scary as shit, though."

She smiled brilliantly, her whole demeanor seemingly changing. "That's what's exhilarating about him."

Ichigo blushed once more as they turned back to Urahara's shop. He had to hurry back inside to save Orihime as Urahara offered her a swig of sake from his gourd. The woman couldn't hold liquor worth a shit, he knew from good experience.

Katsue lingered in the courtyard for a moment, staring up at the sky. In particular, at the spot where she knew the Soul Gate had opened up mere hours ago to deposit her in the real world. She felt dead inside, despite the soft smile on her lips. Dead. And she was pissed off over it.

* * *

And another chapter rolls around, introducing Katsue to the bizzare clothes of our world! I wonder how Zaraki would have reacted to human clothes? I could only hope that he'd get frustrated with it all, and end up running around buck nekkid. :3


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 12/?  
Rating: MA for smut and language.  
Warnings: Coarse language, very, very coarse language.  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. I am forever the slave to his world. Nanashi Katsue is mine.  
A/N: This chapter took me a while to write. Not only did I have to struggle with writer's block, but writing a depressed Zaraki is rather difficult. O_o I didn't want him to get too out of character...I think I did a good job, though.

* * *

With a huge sigh that resettled Captain Zaraki Kenpachi's kimono on his shoulders, the massive man pushed into the bright day light of Sereitei. It wasn't right, he thought momentarily, that the sky here was always so bright and gods damned sunny. For the first time in a long time, it made him miss the harsh reality of the Rukongai.

"Oi, Ikkaku," he drawled as he spotted his scrawny third seat officer lounging just outside the door.

Without a moment's hesitance the bald-headed man was on his feet, chest puffed out and shoulders back, as he barked in reply, "Yes, Captain!"

Zaraki sighed again. "Call the men in for a drill," was his drawled reply.

With a curious sidelong glance at his captain, Ikkaku turned towards the closest cluster of Shinigami—a group of mixed men and women that were slacking off in the shade of a nearby tree—and drew his zanpakutou. "Hey you fuckin' slackers!" he bellowed and stomped off in their direction. His loud voice and brandished zanpakutou startled them all on to their feet, their hands going to the hilt of their swords. At least they weren't too much out of practice, he thought as he grabbed the closest one by his shihakusho and threw him towards the practice field. "Drill time! Go, go, go!"

Zaraki followed his loud officer towards the field, silently approving of his odd technique to gather the troops. He was raising a huge ruckus that had men from the dormitories on the other side of the Eleventh's quarters running to reach the field before Zaraki did. Men were tripping over their hakama as they struggled to get dressed; others were trying in vain to shake off an early-morning buzz by dipping their heads under the supplied water spigots on one side of the field.

Yachiru followed him wordlessly, her small hands buried into his hakama as her feet hurried to keep up with his long, slow strides. She had been eerily quiet lately, much like himself. He hoped that she would get back to her usual hyperactivity soon, or at least stop following him like a duckling. He hadn't been able to get a moment by himself in a good three weeks, ever since Katsue—

Zaraki cringed and shook his head, trying to banish the thought out of his thick skull. The sound of his bells jangling in his hair snapped the attention of every man and woman gathered on the practice field on to him. With a grim grin, he glanced over the ramshackle group. There were gaps in the lines.

"S-s-sorry, Captain!"

The jittery, nervous voice had Zaraki pausing mid-stride and peering at the kneeling man in the dirt beside him. This kid was always late reporting for drills and practice. "For what?" he growled quietly.

The man visibly swallowed before pressing his forehead into the dirt. "S-s-sorry for reporting in late, Captain sir!"

Another man kneeled in the dirt beside him, spewing the same apology out of his mouth.

Rolling his eyes, Zaraki stepped over to the two and physically hauled them both onto their feet by the collars of their black kimono. They were positively sweating bullets as they looked up at him before Zaraki settled them on to their feet. "You both have latrine duty for the rest of the week," he rumbled and turned away. "Go run me some laps," he barked when he felt the men relax behind him.

"Y-yes, Captain Zaraki!" they stammered in unison before jogging off.

"You gonna go watch them?" he drawled to his little Vice Captain as the girl turned to watch them, one small fist stuck firmly in her mouth.

Her face screwed up before she turned back to him, hiding against his leg.

Zaraki felt a little twinge somewhere in his chest, in the general vicinity of his pectorals. "Drill thirteen!" he barked as one massive hand settled on Yachiru's little head. "Go sit with Ikkaku, squirt," he whispered under his breath.

She shook her head, making a sound that resembled a high pitch whine. With a sigh, Zaraki bent far enough over to pry her vice-like grip from his hakama. The minute he managed to break her grip, her whine grew in volume into a loud scream of denial.

"I ain't goin' nowhere, for fuck's sake," Zaraki snarled before turning her towards his two high ranking officers, and gently patting the little girl's rump. With her bright eyes wide and filled with unshed tears, Yachiru gave him one last look over her slender shoulder before slowly making her way towards Baldy-chan and Funky-Brows.

**XXXX**

Madarame Ikkaku scowled from his perch on the sidelines of the practice field. His black eyes were tracking the movements of his giant of a captain, as the man walked up and down rows of gathered Shinigami. They were doing drills, which wasn't a terribly rare thing in the Eleventh Squad. What was rare, even unheard of, was the fact that Zaraki Kenpachi wasn't sitting where Ikkaku was, and instead was seemingly doing his job.

Sighing, Ikkaku rested his chin on a fist and propped the lot up on his knee. Yachiru mimicked him by his side, with her own sigh. "Ain't ever seen anything like it," he grumbled to his little Vice Captain. Even the pink-haired girl was acting strange lately, and he damn well knew why.

"You," Zaraki's voice was low and deep, but somehow lacked the usual growl that Ikkaku had come to know and love, "Your grip is too wide." His massive hands helped a young recruit, fresh from the academy, get his hands situated on his zanpakutou properly. The men that stood to either side of the young Shinigami were watching Zaraki hesitantly, as if they were expecting some sneak attack. Hell, Ikkaku was expecting at least a hearty bellow or a swift knock on the head from Zaraki.

They were all disappointed as the giant of a captain moved on to the next pair, nodding in satisfaction as he looked over their stances. He went up and down the lines, correcting each pair and guiding them into the proper position. And the entire time his face was calm, his voice was flat, and he didn't so much as lift a lip in a silent snarl.

It had his entire squad nervous and sweating like prepubescent boys in a strip club.

Yumichika let out a soft sigh of his own. The young Shinigami was sitting on Yachiru's far side, his back straight with perfect posture. "I'd hate to say it, but I think he was much more beautiful when he was acting angry all the time," his voice was lazy, as if he were bored watching the day's drills.

"He's been actin' like this ever since that chick from the Fourth left," Ikkaku grumbled into his fist. His back was stiff even as he hunched where he sat; his other hand was ready to draw his zanpakutou if his captain showed even the slightest sign of sudden aggression. "Ain't right."

"Do you think he loved her?" Yumichika's eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he turned his head slightly to look at Ikkaku. He was still all too aware of Zaraki pacing the practice field at the corner of his vision.

Snorting, Ikkaku risked moving his attention from Zaraki to give his comrade a sidelong glance. "Love is for pansies."

"Well, think about it. In all the years we've been in the Eleventh, Captain Zaraki has not shown such interest in anyone," Yumichika replied calmly, his voice low so that it didn't carry across the field. Luckily, just as he spoke Zaraki barked a soft order for the troops to begin their drill. The sounds of sword meeting sword soon drowned out any chance of them being over heard. "The only person he's been attached to is Vice Captain Yachiru," he nodded at the depressed-looking girl by his side.

She didn't even look at him to acknowledge that she had heard him speak about her.

"Tch," Ikkaku screwed up his lip in a disgusted snarl as he looked back at the field. "I don't care if he loved her or not. Either way she's fucked him up. I mean, look at him!" he snarled in frustration.

Yumichika gave him the barest shrug. "Yachiru-san, what is the matter with Captain Zaraki?"

The little girl simply sighed and shifted her chin on her fist, her delicate pink brows drawing together with her frown.

"Yachiru-san?" he persisted gently, going so far as to rest a soft hand on her small shoulder.

"Ken-chan!" Yachiru cried out and bounded from the porch, running straight through the lines of Shinigami and throwing them off their drill. Zaraki didn't even chastise them for breaking their lines as they narrowly avoided striking the vice captain. Zaraki bent over, arms wide in welcome, as Yachiru collided into his legs crying her little heart out.

"Lookit you did," Ikkaku snapped and placed a hand on his hilt, his attention entirely focused on Zaraki. Any moment now the mammoth of a man would start shouting and brandishing his zanpakutou at Yumichika, and Ikkaku would be ready for it.

Yumichika huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, meeting Zaraki's gaze solidly. He was frowning, something Yumichika rarely did—it caused age lines—and Zaraki was just staring at him like some emotionless statue.

Without breaking eye contact, Zaraki scooped the little girl up into his arms and deposited her on his shoulders. Everyone in the squad was watching him warily, ready for the outburst they felt was coming. But Zaraki was still silent as he stared Yumichika down.

Finally, the fifth seat officer looked away with a blush. As if breaking the eye contact were some signal, Zaraki barked for the troops to get back into line. "At least she didn't break him," Yumichika grumbled under his breath to Ikkaku.

His bald friend was staring open-mouthed at his captain as the man went back to patrolling the ranks. "Did you see that?" he asked breathlessly.

Yumichika replied with a glare.

"What the hell was that?" Ikkaku snorted and finally let his hand fall from his sword. If making Yachiru cry didn't get them into some deep shit, then nothing would. "He didn't do shit!"

"I'm perfectly aware of that," Yumichika snapped.

With a grim frown on his face, Ikkaku shot to his feet and purposefully strode across the field. Unlike his pink-haired superior, he was careful to give the sparring duos plenty of room as he headed straight for his captain. A low snarl grew in his throat as he watched the man gently fix another Shinigami's sword grip without comment or threats. Hands curled into tight fists, his back grew stiff with tension as he reached out a hand and grabbed Zaraki by the shoulder.

"What the hell is your problem!" he snarled and tried to force the giant of a man to turn around. All he managed was to knock his captain off balance enough for the man to shift his stance, before he turned his one black pit of an eye on to Ikkaku.

"Watch it, Ikkaku," Zaraki's voice was deep and low, but void of the threat Ikkaku would have expected.

"No, fuck that. What the hell is in your head that you're pussin' out on us? Huh?" Ikkaku snarled as his grip tightened on the man's thick muscled shoulder. His other fist was cocked at his side, as if he were trying not to sink his fist into Zaraki's rock hard abdomen. "Yumichika fuckin' made Yachiru _cry_ and you ain't gonna do shit? People were late for drills and all you did was give them _latrine_ duty and make 'em run laps? Where the fuck is the yellin' and kickin' our asses half way across Sereitei?"

"Ikkaku," this time Zaraki's voice was a growl that promised pain if the man kept on his current war path.

"It's bullshit! You're fuckin' Zaraki Kenpachi, the nightmare from Rukongai, and you let some piece of ass waltz in and fuck your head up!" he roared, his fist flying straight for the sharp angle that made up Zaraki's nose.

With a snarl Zaraki took a step back, his eye flashing as Yachiru shouted obscenities from her perch at the bald officer. "What the fuck do you think you're doin', Ikkaku?"

"Beatin' some god damn sense back into that thick skull of yours! Quit fuckin' sulkin' around and actin' like the world is comin' to an end just because Katsue fuckin' left your sorry ass here!" he punctuated his point with another punch, aimed at his captain's visible eye. He didn't care that he was technically being insubordinate, and something of that sort often resulted in disciplinary action as severe as being executed. Hell, no one attacked the Eleventh Squad captain in the history of Sereitei that didn't either take over the rank or die in combat. And here he was, letting fists fly.

"Ikkaku—"

He shrugged off Yumichika's restraining hand and snarled, his fist meeting Zaraki's rock hard chin with a crack. "So she's fuckin' gone, big whoop. You got other shit to take care of here! Grow a set, Zaraki and get back on your fuckin' track to owning this place!"

With a loud snarl Zaraki finally lashed back, his eye flashing gold as his reiatsu absolutely exploded. Shinigami cried out in alarm and scattered from the practice field as Zaraki hauled back one massive arm, and buried his own fist into the depths of Ikkaku's cheek. He felt the resounding snap of bone and the crack of teeth all the way up his arm as Ikkaku staggered back, his own reiatsu flaring up to meet Zaraki's.

Zaraki barely registered the fact that Yachiru was bailing from her perch as he laid in to Ikkaku, roaring and snarling like a feral cat as he pummeled the smaller man with one punch after the next.

And the runt fought back, yowling his own battle cries and busting Zaraki's lip. There was no form to their fighting, any rhyme or reason. It was simply an all out brawl where everything goes and they both landed blows wherever they could.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about!" Zaraki bellowed as he finally latched one massive hand around Ikkaku's throat and slammed the Shinigami into the hard earth under their feet. The ground groaned and buckled with the impact, until Ikkaku was sprawled out in a pit of disturbed earth. Chest heaving, Zaraki glared down at the man, his eye burning as his lips peeled back from his teeth in a fierce snarl. His reiatsu was manifesting around him as a giant yellow aura, lashing and writhing into the vague shape of some feral beast high above Zaraki's head.

Ikkaku was gasping for breath, his hands latched on to Zaraki's as he glared back. His face was slowly turning from a shade of red to a light purple.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do?" Zaraki snarled low in his throat as he leaned down on the man's throat, his grip flexing tighter.

"Go fuckin' get her, dipshit," Ikkaku barely managed to strangle the words out of his throat.

As the words left Zaraki's Third Officer's mouth, his sudden burst of blood lust absolutely deflated. His eye turned from bright, burning gold to the flat black that his squad had become accustomed to over the past few weeks. His grip went lax on Ikkaku's throat, allowing the smaller man to suck in great heaving breaths of precious air. "You think?" he huffed quietly as he backed away, giving the struggling man room to pull himself back together.

Panting for breath, Ikkaku slowly sat up. "Damn straight," he growled between breaths. His voice was thick and muffled thanks to his broken jaw. "Yer a fuckin' pussy if yer jus' gonna sit on yer ass 'n' let 'er walk out on you 'n' Yachiru like that."

Frowning, Zaraki turned to watch as the last of his squad fled towards their respective dorms. The only people that had stayed behind after he lashed out on Ikkaku were Yumichika and Yachiru. His little girl was crying a river into Yumichika's hakama. "But she did walk out," he grumbled quietly.

"Fuck you if you think that bitch would leave you voluntarily. Is that an inferiority complex yer gettin', Captain?" he drawled in response, baiting the great beast that stood over him. When Zaraki's eye darted back to scowl at him, Ikkaku went on. "I'm thinkin' you need to talk to that old fart that sent 'er to the livin' world. Before Kurosaki decides he has a thing for women with great curves and gray eyes."

That did it, Ikkaku thought with a triumphant grimace. His captain had that look in his eyes that he knew and loved—the look that said Zaraki was on a war path. With a loud rumble deep in his chest, the giant of a man stalked off, heading directly towards the First Squad Headquarters. Ikkaku stumbled to his feet to follow him, fully aware of Yumichika and Yachiru following silently. His head was pounding and his jaw ached like no tomorrow, but there was no way Ikkaku was going to miss whatever was about to go down.

And for probably the first time in his life, Captain Zaraki Kenpachi didn't get lost on his way to High Commander Yamamoto's offices.

All along the way, Shinigami from nearly every squad had stopped to gawk at the marching Eleventh officers. Zaraki hadn't fared much better than Ikkaku, and was sporting a brilliant purple black eye and a split lip. A deep black bruise marred his collar bone, where the captain had the vague idea that maybe the damned thing was broken, as if that would stop him.

Men from the first squad hurried into defensive formations as Zaraki busted through the heavy wooden gate that marked off the First Division from the rest of Sereitei. They were yelling for him to stop, asking what business he had disturbing the High Commander. And he didn't reply to a single one except for a deep snarl that tore at his throat. He pushed men and women alike out of his way, not caring if they fell to the dirt under his feet or managed to catch their balance and get the hell away from him. Even the ones that dared to draw their zanpakutou against him were smart enough to not actually attack him.

He wasn't at all surprised, though, that when he burst into the great hall where Yamamoto usually gathered the captains, that a plethora of Special Ops Shinigami were there and ready to defend the old fart, as if he needed them.

"What is the meaning of this?" Yamamoto's voice was loud and commanding, and Zaraki didn't give a shit.

"I got the same damned question for you!" Zaraki barked as he came to a halt before a row of brandished zanpakutou. He could hear Yachiru's small whimper somewhere behind him, and that only fueled his fire.

"Captain Zaraki? What's going on?" Zaraki didn't turn his attention from the old bastard that sat calmly at the end of the hall as Captain Ukitake's voice sounded from behind him. He was aware that the other captains were falling into line behind him, some tossing him curious looks or appalled glares.

"Why the fuck is Nanashi Katsue in the real world doing that stupid ass grunt work for you?" he roared and took a threatening step forward, not caring that the points of blades were now threateningly pressing against his broad chest. Only a few of them managed to break the armor of his reiatsu. "It's a fuckin' insult to her as an officer. She has better things to attend to here than healing Kurosaki's sorry ass if he runs into a hollow having a bad hair day!"

Calmly, Yamamoto gestured Captain Unohana to step forward from the gathered captains. The woman did so regally, drawing up to stand beside Zaraki with her dainty chin raised high in open defiance. "This is a concern for Captain Unohana, considering she is in charge of Officer Nanashi."

"It's my fuckin' concern because she's in charge of my field medic team and she's _mine_," Zaraki snarled. His hands were clenched in tight fists and his arms trembled at the effort to keep himself from laying into the whelps blocking Yamamoto from him. More than anything, though, he wanted to slam his fist into that sagging, wrinkly old-ass face—

"And she still falls under Captain Unohana's command," Yamamoto snapped irritably. He did not have time to put up with insubordinate captains, especially one as coarse as Zaraki Kenpachi.

"I have a tendency to agree with Captain Zaraki," Unohana spoke up at last, her voice clear and strong. Still snarling, Zaraki sent her a sidelong glance. What the hell was she up to?

"Explain," commanded the old man.

"Officer Nanashi is, as you said High Commander, under my jurisdiction. As such, I was not approached on her assignment to Karakura Town and the Substitute Shinigami. She is my third seat officer, and she is direly needed to fill her duties here in Sereitei," she replied, still the epitome of calm and cool. Her face was that friendly, elderly mother look she usually always had on her face. "In all due respect, you over stepped my authority and gave Nanashi an assignment that I was not informed upon until after she had already left.

And as Zaraki said, it is an insult to her to be placed on such a mission. Substitute Kurosaki has his own healer, after all, in the form of Inoue Orihime. If we felt the necessity to send him one of my own people, someone of lower rank and skill would be more than adept enough to cover his every need. She has more important responsibilities—such as finishing the project she had started. I had placed her in charge of it for a reason, High Commander Yamamoto."

"And I hold every bit of power to over ride you, Captain Unohana. My orders are as good as law," the old man rumbled in reply, as his gnarled old hands thumped the oaken staff he held on the wooden floor.

"But why Nanashi Katsue?" Unohana continued. "It is from my own personal belief that such an assignment to one in her position can only be construed as an insult or a punishment."

"I think that we are all too well aware of the relationship between Nanashi Katsue and Captain Zaraki," High Commander Yamamoto's voice was almost laughing, Zaraki thought as he snarled at the old man. "Not that I need to explain my reasoning to ones such as you, but Officer Nanashi was sent to Karakura Town not only to pursue my own interest in seeing how effective a stationed medic would be in the Living Realm, but also as a form of disciplinary action. She was in need of a reminder of where her station lies among her fellow Shinigami."

"That's a load of horse shit!" Zaraki snapped as he finally put his hand to his zanpakutou. The line of Special Ops stiffened at the motion, and one even went so far as to press his sword into Zaraki's chest, burying a good centimeter or two into his thick muscle. The pain didn't even register to Zaraki. "She ain't done shit to step out of line or disobey anyone or anything! She follows protocol and orders like her bloody life depended on it! Fuck, she helped you and Unohana reform that sorry ass excuse of a healing squad and this is how you thank her!"

"I agree with Captain Zaraki," Unohana chimed in immediately, despite the insult he had paid to her and her squad. "She has done nothing but serve me and Sereitei to the best of her abilities ever since she joined my squad."

"And yet she has gained power over our own Zaraki Kenpachi," Yamamoto drawled.

Zaraki's reiatsu flared up in anger as he finally drew his zanpakutou, knocking away each and every blade that was aimed in his direction with one sweep of his arm. Several of the whelps that tried to hold him back fell flat on their asses; one even wet his hakama. "Are you sayin' she's trying to pull shit like that bastard Aizen? Tryin' to take over a bloody squad through _me_?" he roared, his reiatsu flaring to life.

"Even I find that ridiculous, High Commander," the calm, cool, monotonous voice that spoke up took Zaraki completely by surprise. The short runt that lead the Tenth Squad, Hitsugaya Toushirou, came to stand on his other side. His eyes were sparkling with that ridiculously pretty shade of blue as he folded his arms over his small chest, and planted his feet firmly. "If anything, her relationship with Captain Zaraki is nothing short of a blessing. My squad has had to break up fewer brawls between the Eleventh Squad and others, and Zaraki himself has been somewhat calmer since she was assigned to service his squad."

Zaraki growled, his pride prickling as Hitsugaya of all people came to his defense. "What're you tryin' to say, runt?" he snarled low under his breath.

"I'm saying that Officer Nanashi is required here in Sereitei not only to fulfill her duties as Third Seat of the Fourth Squad, but to also keep this buffoon in line," the kid drawled and gave Zaraki a cross look. The man was absolutely thick in the head, he thought, before turning his attention back onto High Commander Yamamoto. "And I am sure that Captain Unohana has also seen a difference in the amount of cases brought to her for healing."

"Yes, Captain Hitsugaya is correct," Unohana chimed in. "Aside from training accidents within the squad, I have received less cases of bar brawls or petty squabbles within and without Squad Eleven. And Captain Zaraki has also required less medical attention. Officer Nanashi keeps him in tip top shape, and minimizes his down time between missions. That is most important at this current time of war, High Commander."

"I don't need somebody to look after me," Zaraki snapped irritably at the calm woman by his side. They were supposed to be defending him, not making a joke out of him!

"With all due respect, you do," Unohana told him simply, one of her small, dainty hands patting his arm gently.

"Enough!" the High Commander's voice bellowed just as Zaraki was about to argue a rebuttal. "I have heard enough on this matter! Officer Nanashi is to finish her assignment in Karakura Town, and that is it! Ten years is but a blink in time!"

Roaring his defiance, Zaraki launched himself into the middle of the gathered Special Ops. His blade met sword and flesh, parting or breaking both with simple ease. It wasn't until he had impaled one man, and was on the verge of decapitating another, when restraining swords and arms found holds on his body. He roared curses and obscenities as his fellow captains struggled to pull him off of the poor Shinigami he had been massacring.

It was Kuchiki Byakuya that took the delightful time to slam his perfect fist into Zaraki's face, and finally break the brute's attention on the foe he struggled so fiercely to defeat. "This is not the way to get her back," his voice was cold and monotonous as Zaraki's fierce yellow eye glared hate at him. The two had never, and probably would never get along. But be that as it may…

"Get him out of here and put him into the Senzaikyuu!" Yamamoto bellowed as there was a lull in the fighting. "Strip him of his haori and zanpakutou until I deem otherwise!"

Zaraki spat a mouthful of blood towards Yamamoto's general direction as a pair of massive arms wrenched his own up and behind his back. There was no mistaking Komamura Saijin's weird-ass fuzzy paws as the captain of the Seventh Squad wrenched Zaraki's zanpakutou from his hands. With a roar of defiance, Zaraki yanked himself away from the fox-bear-man's strong grip and shoved the nearest captain out of his way. He ignored Soi Fong's angry curses and stormed from the hall, tearing his haori off his shoulders as he did.

Fuck them, he thought as he felt Yumichika and Ikkaku hurry to keep up with him. There was no way in hell he was going to let himself be beaten and carried about Sereitei like some gods damned prisoner. "Fuck this place," he snarled and threw his tattered haori to the ground. Far in the distance, he could just make out the tall white peak of the Repentance Tower, and the towering frame of the Soul Gate.

* * *

Le gasp! What shall happen to our favorite brute of a Captain now?


	13. Chapter 13

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 13/?  
Rating: MA for smut, corase language, and violence.  
Warnings: Coarse language, very, very coarse language. Hell any chapter with Ikkaku in it will have coarse language. And I suppose it's kind've angsty.  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC, hinted Ichigo x Orihime, Ichigo x Rukia  
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. I am forever the slave to his world. Nanashi Katsue is mine.  
A/N: This is the longest chapter yet. I thought about splitting it into two, and finishing the ending for this chapter (which won't happen now for another two chapters, methinks). But I had to leave off on a cliffhanger of sorts! *cackles*

* * *

"You gotta be kiddin' me," Kurosaki Ichigo sighed in exasperation, before tossing his bag over his shoulder and shoving his free hand in to his pocket. With a frown firmly in place, he slouched and walked right up to the group of street kids loitering in front of his school. There were five of them, he counted, and each one of them was almost as tall as him, and heavier built. And there was Katsue, chatting amiably with the ring leader. That girl had a death wish.

"Careful, Kurosaki-kun," Orihime whispered from beside him, as she clutched her own school bag over her chest. Ichigo only snorted in response.

"Oi, Katsue-san!" he called out, effectively drawing the attention of the five punks and the suicidal girl.

"What?" she asked innocently, her gray eyes flat as she frowned at him.

"These guys givin' you any trouble?" he drawled as he came to stand beside the Shinigami. She was sporting the same school uniform as him and Orihime, and somehow made the damned thing look sexy. He scowled as the ring leader gave him a once over, a slow grin forming on his greasy face.

"What's it to you, Kurosaki?" the guy growled and settled back against the motorcycle he leaned against. He was clad from head to toe in leather, as if he were trying to be some American motor cycle gangster. A bright red bandana wrapped around his head, keeping greasy black hair out of his eyes.

"I was asking them about their…motorcycles?" Katsue looked to one of the other thugs to confirm that she had the word right. "I've never seen something like it before."

"I can take you for a ride anytime you like, sugar," the ringleader drawled and nodded over his shoulder, indicating the leather seat under one of his big hands. He gave her a slow look that lingered on her hips and then her breasts. Not for the first time, Ichigo wished that Katsue hadn't adopted the habit of not buttoning her shirt up to the collar.

Katsue's eyes seemed to light up in surprise. "Really?"

"She ain't interested," Ichigo interrupted and slung a heavy arm across Katsue's shoulder. The shorter woman glared at him, and opened her mouth to protest.

"What, you her boyfriend or sum'in?" the guy laughed and sat up slowly. "Looks like you ain't keepin' her satisfied. She needs a bit of a thrill, ain't that right, sugar?"

That had Katsue madder at the punk than at Ichigo. With a low growl in her throat, she stood tall under Ichigo's arm and glared with all the roiling force her gray eyes could muster. "You aren't half the man I need, little boy," she snapped, before shrugging Ichigo's arm off her shoulder.

"Yer judgin' too soon, baby," another one of the punks spoke up. This one had his hair shaved on either side of his head, leaving a short strip running from his forehead to his neck in a bright red streak. "I'm sure one of us could give you the ride of your life," he and his cronies let out a dark, rumbling laugh.

Bandana smirked and sauntered closer to her, his gloved hands reaching out to tug at the pleats of her skirt. His own hips arched towards her as Katsue struggled to keep her balance. "Or you could give me the ride, eh?" he laughed.

Ichigo opened his mouth to yell at the guy, but fell short as one of Katsue's hands slammed into Bandana's face. He bellowed with anger and pain as he stumbled away from Katsue, his hands darting to his broken nose as blood oozed down his face.

"You fuckin' bitch!" he roared, black eyes watering as he lifted a hand to slap her.

She punched him again, this time in the gut. Ichigo stood silent as he watched Katsue make quick work of the other four guys as they hurried to help their ringleader. She was quick and efficient, striking them in vital areas that he knew from past experience hurt like hell. One man was gripping his crotch while Mohawk lay incapacitated on the floor, his back arched awkwardly after Katsue had plunged her elbows against his kidneys.

"Like I said," she sniffed as she kicked a guy with more piercings in his face than he had fingers, "Can't handle me."

"Oi, Katsue-san, that was a little over board," Ichigo drawled lazily as he nudged Bandana with a foot. The poor guy was sprawled on the ground, still nursing his busted nose.

"He touched me," she said simply, before turning on her heel and marching down the street. Ichigo heaved with a giant sigh and followed, Orihime stumbling at his side as she tried to walk and gawk at the gangsters laid out on the street.

"Katsue-san, that was amazing!" she said in awe and rushed to catch up to the older woman. Ichigo rolled his eyes and fell in to step behind them, gazing up at the sky while the two chatted like nothing happened. He zoned them out as Orihime brought up going shopping—again.

Katsue was an odd one, he thought as he watched a particular cloud make its path across the sky. She wasn't like any of the women he knew, not even Tatsuki, although he had been appalled to see that the two women had struck up a very violent friendship that involved a lot of sparring. She was typically quiet and aloof, not much unlike Rukia when she first came to the living realm. But then she'd have sparks of passionate anger that usually left Ichigo standing shell shocked in the after blast of a very…well, aggressive berating. Even Renji gave her a wide berth on her off days, making comments about the woman PMS-ing or some such. And for some bizarre reason, she always reacted oddly when mention of the Eleventh Squad came up.

Renji had warned him several times not to mention them, especially the captain. "You just don't want to," he had said when Ichigo demanded to know why. No amount of pestering could get the red-headed Shinigami to tell him any more than that.

Ichigo scowled as a juice box was shoved in his face. He looked past the bright purple and yellow cardboard into Katsue's flat eyes. She wriggled the damned thing, and he sighed. "What is it with you Shinigami not being able to open one of these?" he huffed and snatched the box from her hand, tugging the little plastic straw off the side.

"What is it with you humans and complicating things as easy as drinking," she huffed back, tapping her foot on the cement as she waited. "First it's buttons and zippers, then plastic wrap, and now this thing!"

Ichigo couldn't resist snorting a short laugh as he thought of Katsue's first encounter with plastic wrap. It was an epic moment, he was sure, when he had stalked into Urahara's store to find the woman wrestling with a wad of the clingy material as she struggled to fit it over a bowl. "You have no idea how much I delight in how difficult simple things are for your lot," he drawled and offered her the box back, the small straw planted firmly through the little circle at the top.

She scowled at him before clamping her mouth around the straw and turning back to Orihime. The other girl was still busy pouring over the vending machine they had paused in front of. Her eyes lit up as she finally spied her favorite drink, but before she could push the button Katsue froze, dropping her drink.

"Oi, if it tastes bad don't just throw it to the ground," Ichigo grumbled as he stooped to pick the little box up. He couldn't help but notice the grape juice had stained one of Katsue's stockings, and coincidentally couldn't help but follow the curve of her calf up the length of her leg. He blushed as he straightened, and offered the thing back to her.

She was staring over his head, her jaw slightly dropped in surprise. Blinking, Ichigo followed her line of sight, wondering what her and Orihime were busy gawking at. He cursed when he saw the portal to the Soul Gate open far up in the sky, and two lithe forms jumped from it.

"Who is it?" he growled and grabbed for his Substitute Shinigami badge.

"Ikkaku and Yumichika," Katsue replied without a second prompting. Her long-fingered hands were curled into fists as she held them over her chest, almost as if she were shrinking in on herself. It wasn't until the gate closed that she seemed to have relaxed—if only a little bit.

"The hell are they doing here?" he scowled as Katsue finally took her little drink back. She slurped on it thoughtfully before answering.

"Only one way to find out," she murmured. "I didn't receive any word that Shinigami would be crossing over today," her voice was dull and flat as she dug into her breast pocket for the little cell-phone like contraption that Urahara had supplied her with. The stupid thing was just like the one Rukia was always dinking around with, and Ichigo couldn't help but wonder why the hell he didn't have one of the damned things himself. "Rukia and Renji are already heading over to them. I don't think we'll need to be concerned—"

Ichigo snorted, before he grabbed Orihime's hand, and then hers. "The hell I'm gonna ignore those two bein' here. Of course we gotta go see what's up!"

Katsue stammered excuses even as Ichigo hauled them both off in the direction where he had seen the two Eleventh Squad officers land. Orihime was strangely quiet, even as Katsue spat curses and swore all sorts of oaths at the back of Ichigo's head. The woman could swear with the best of them.

It only took him a matter of minutes to track down the two Shinigami, and he wasn't at all surprised to see that Renji and Rukia were already on the scene. Rukia was scowling at Ikkaku and holding an ice pack to the side of his head, while Renji was gave Yumichika a cross look. The weirdo was spurting off about something or other that was beautiful and gorgeous, despite the look of death the red head was giving him.

"Oi! Ikkaku-san!" Ichigo called out as he finally dropped the two girls' hands. He hurried to the bald Shinigami's side, grinning jovially before he clapped the man on his shoulder. "You look like shit."

"I love you, too, Kurosaki," Ikkaku rumbled past his swollen face. His eyes, however, locked onto Katsue immediately. Scowling despite the pain in his jaw, Ikkaku rose to his feet and gently pushed Rukia to the side. "Get the hell over here," he snarled.

Ichigo stared in wonder as Katsue hung her head, her eyes refusing to meet Ikkaku's as she went to his side. Her hands were deft and gentle as she inspected his jaw and the glorious sunset that marked one of his eyes. She was completely silent even as Ikkaku snarled and growled at her, muttering his own curses at her as she gently pried his mouth open to have a look.

"Did you find all your teeth?" she asked quietly. Ikkaku jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards Yumichika. The Shinigami smiled at Katsue brilliantly as he proffered a little leather pouch from his obi. She nodded her thanks to him, before stepping back from Ikkaku. "All my stuff is at Kurosaki's—"

"The fuck are you doing staying with him?" Ikkaku sneered and shot Ichigo a rather crude glare. "You and Rukia doin' threesomes?"

"Don't make me slap you," she replied quietly. Ichigo blinked in surprise once again—Katsue was being unusually passive.

"My dad owns a clinic," Ichigo sniffed as he stepped up to stand beside the withered Shinigami. He was more than ready to step between her and Ikkaku if he was going to be any more of a dick to her. "He hired her on as a nurse in her spare time, in exchange for staying in the attic of the clinic. She runs shop out of there, too. He thinks she's a student studying to be a doctor when she gets out of school."

Ikkaku snorted derisively. "Well lead on, asshole," he growled.

"She may not slap you, but I will," Ichigo replied with his own growl.

"As will I if I hear one more mention of me in a threesome!" Rukia snapped angrily, jabbing a sharp finger against Ikkaku's side. The bald man winced and gave her a weary look as he cupped a massive hand over his side.

Katsue sighed as she looked at his hand. "Did you break a rib, too?"

"Maybe a couple of 'em," Ikkaku drawled lazily as Ichigo grumbled to himself and turned, heading back in the direction of his home. The group was unusually quiet after that, as the Shinigami in gigai took the lead with Ichigo and Orihime. Ikkaku and Yumichika fell in quietly, murmuring to each other under their breath a couple yards behind them.

Curse his luck, Ichigo thought as he finally spied his dad's little home and the clinic beside it. Isshin was being a dipshit again, and was sitting on the tall wall of their privacy fence doing gods only know what. But whatever it was, Ichigo was pretty sure it didn't require the man to be waltzing about in public in nothing but his boxers. "You distract him, I'll get yer shit," he grumbled under his breath to Katsue, just as his dad finally spotted them.

"Ichigo!" Isshin called out as he darted to his feet, practically flying down the sidewalk to intercept Ichigo and his friends. "Oh, my little boy is bringing home such beautiful girls lately! Ichigo, you dog, when are you going to make a proper woman out of one!"

A vein ticked in Ichigo's forehead as Isshin draped one arm over Orihime and the other over Rukia and Katsue collectively. Rukia was smiling the flirty smile she learned from watching TV with Karin and Yuzu. Orihime was giggling shyly, and Katsue looked rather bewildered. Ichigo rolled his eyes and hopped nimbly over the wall as Isshin continued to pour over the three girls, with Renji standing there awkwardly. Yumichika and Ikkaku were howling with laughter off to the side, perfectly enjoying the idea that Isshin could not see them.

Ichigo hurried as he stalked through the familiar halls of his dad's clinic. He took the stairs up to the second floor three at a time, his long legs eating up the distance as he made his way to Katsue's little room. The girl was ridiculously neat and orderly, he thought, as he dug through her drawers looking for the bag of Shinigami healing utensils she had. He nearly choked on his own tongue when he accidentally yanked open her underwear drawer. And sure enough, there was the bag, snuggled between two of the skimpiest looking bras Ichigo had ever seen.

Not that he had ever seen many bras.

Blushing profusely, he carefully fished the bag from its tomb of lingerie and hurried back outside, nearly fleeing the drawer. This time as he hopped over the wall, he aimed his heel for the perfect target his father made for him: his head. "Leave 'em alone," he grunted as his foot connected and soundly left Isshin sulking on the cement sidewalk.

"Oi, Ichigo, you're so mean to your old, decrepit father," Isshin mourned as he watched the three girls, his son, and the weird kid with red hair flee back the way they came. His eyes flickered to watch the other two with them—the Shinigami without the gigai. What the hell was his son getting himself in to this time?

**XXXX**

Ichigo scowled as he propped his chin up on his fist and watched Katsue work. She was quick and diligent as she spread her tools out on the impeccably clean porch of Urahara's shop. Ikkaku was sitting beside her, returning Ichigo's scowl with one of his own. The bald man's face was swollen up like a balloon, though, and Ichigo found it rather difficult to take him seriously.

"Was it a training accident?" Katsue asked innocently as she tilted Ikkaku's face up towards the light provided by the sun. She looked over his jaw again, her fingers gently moving the broken bone.

Ikkaku swore vehemently, but made it a point not to tear his face away from her delicate hands. "You could say that," he spat irritably.

"And you felt that it was worth coming here just to have me treat it?" she teased playfully before turning back to her supplies, picking out a certain vial of a sickly green color. She handed it to him, her hands on her hips as he screwed up his face with distaste. "Why are you really here?"

Ikkaku glared at her. "You know why," he snarled before ripping the cap off the vial and downing the contents in one gulp. He blanched and threw the vial to the ground, taking some meager satisfaction in the glass bursting on the hard earth.

Blushing, Katsue braced his jaw in one hand and gently coaxed it into its proper position, feeling the bone already knitting together under her touch. Without another word, she pried his mouth open and stuffed her hand inside, drawing strangled sounds of frustration out of Ikkaku as she fitted one of his teeth back in its place. "Yumichika-sama, what happened?" she asked absently before preparing another tooth. Ikkaku was glaring hate at her.

The tall, slim Shinigami let out a dreamy sigh as he gazed up at the blue sky. "It was so magnificent, Katsue-kun. He was like he used to, growling and brandishing his blade like a knight! You should have seen the way he stormed the gates of the First Squad, and all in the name of love!"

As Katsue blushed, Ichigo snorted with laughter. "_Ikkaku_ in love?" he roared, his hands holding his stomach. "You gotta be shittin' me!"

"Shove it, Kurosaki!" Ikkaku bellowed and tried to lunge toward the orange-haired boy, only to have Katsue throw him back to the porch. He choked past her hand as she fitted another one of his teeth back in place.

"Zaraki attacked High Commander Yamamoto," Rukia interrupted, her voice calm and cool as she looked at only Katsue. The Shinigami medic was struggling not to look at the disapproving glances both Rukia and Renji were tossing her way.

Ichigo blinked in surprise. "The old man? Why the hell would he do that?"

Sighing, Yumichika slowly took a seat beside Ikkaku, one of his dainty hands patting Ikkaku's shoulder reassuringly as Katsue fitted another tooth. "It was only right. High Commander Yamamoto acted out of line, if you ask me."

"High Commander Yamamoto can do whatever he pleases and not be out of line," Rukia snapped. "He gave orders; it is our job as Shinigami to obey them."

"If that were the case, Rukia-sama," Yumichika drawled, a slow smile turning his lips, "You would be dead right now, no?"

Rukia glared at him.

"You tellin' me the old man is tryin' to kill someone again?" Ichigo sighed and watched as Renji's eyes still tracked Katsue's movements. The red head was being unusually quiet.

"Not really," Yumichika replied. "It depends on how he sees fit to punish Captain Zaraki. He did almost kill five of the Special Ops, not to mention he was heading directly for the high commander."

"He _resigned_," Ikkaku growled past Katsue's fist, his black eyes glaring at her cold gray ones. Katsue looked away immediately, her face growing hot and red.

Sighing, Yumichika went on. "Captain Zaraki confronted him about you-know-what. Even Captain Hitsugaya and Unohana backed him. But High Commander Yamamoto would not be swayed."

"I don't know what," Ichigo growled and gave the odd Shinigami a flat look.

"You. Know. What," the man repeated as he held a hand up to one side of his mouth, pointing at Katsue conspiratorially with the other. "_The woman_."

"It's only for ten bloody years!" Katsue finally exploded, the epitome of female rage, as she straightened from placing the last of Ikkaku's teeth. Her fists were clenched and her arms were trembling, as if she were barely restraining herself from beating the crap out of the smug looking Shinigami that sat before her. "Ten years is nothing!"

"You know, I don't think he would've minded so much if you had maybe told him about it," Ikkaku drawled, settling down as if he were the most relaxed person in the world. He inspected his nails as she growled angrily.

"Bullshit," she snapped. "He would've never let me go!"

"So you wanted to be here," he replied lazily. "Or you just wanted to leave, yeah?"

Katsue fell silent, her whole body trembling with anger at this point. Ichigo frowned and slowly rose to his feet, ready to step between her and Ikkaku.

"I was given orders," she growled between gritted teeth. "By High Commander Yamamoto. What would have had me do?"

"Tell him no?" Ikkaku finally looked back at her, his black eyes flat as he frowned. "You damn well know you could have suggested that Hanatarou come here instead, you were busy with that little pet project of yours. And freakin' admit it, it's a damn insult for you to be assigned here. Hell, I don't know why Renji puts up with it. Rukia I can understand, but you two? A freaking Vice Captain and a Third seat?" he snorted, even as Rukia and Renji glared at him.

Katsue took a slow, deep breath as she tried to calm herself. "I am under probation," she growled. "This is my punishment."

"For what?" Ikkaku snapped as he finally rose to his feet, his own hands curling into fists. "You wanna tell me that?"

Immediately, she looked at her feet with a bright blush. "For forgetting my place," she whispered to her school shoes. She stared at the grape juice stain, not really seeing it.

"As if you forgot it. All you do is bow and scrape your knees to everyone of a higher rank than you. I don't know why the hell he puts up with it, it's sickening," Ikkaku spat in the dirt at his feet, one of his hands gripping his zanpakutou's hilt. "You're just a damned puppet for all I care. I wish he'd see that, but no. He's too damned distracted with that body of yours—"

"Hey, that's enough, Ikkaku," Ichigo growled and stepped between the two. The bald Shinigami snarled and grabbed Ichigo by the shirt collar, easily dragging the man out of his way. He glowered down his sharp-angled nose as Katsue shrank away from him, trying to keep herself hidden behind Kurosaki's bulk.

"You don't deserve to be a Shinigami," Ikkaku snapped and grabbed her with his other hand, drawing her up on the tips of her toes as he snarled in her face. "You got that strong ass zanpakutou of yours and you barely use it. You're too much of a pussy to say no to anyone. That's probably the only reason you sleep with him, isn't it? Too fuckin' scared to stand up for yourself."

Ichigo snarled as a tear rolled down one of Katsue's cheeks. The girl still refused to meet Ikkaku's eyes as he verbally berated her. "Back off, Ikkaku," he growled and placed a hand over Ikkaku's iron grip on Katsue's shirt.

"You stay out of this, Kurosaki," Ikkaku snapped at him. "Because of her, fucking Captain Zaraki is bein' detained in that damn tower where they kept Rukia, and now my whole squad is without a captain!"

"He really resigned?" Katsue's voice was soft and frail as she finally spoke up. Both Ichigo and Ikkaku snapped their attention on to her as one of her delicate hands laid over the both of theirs.

Yumichika finally broke in, offering Katsue a small parcel wrapped in brown paper. "You should have seen him," he spoke softly as Katsue took the package and Ikkaku let go of her. "He was willing to kill High Commander Yamamoto for you."

Ichigo's jaw dropped open as Katsue slowly opened a flap of the package, to reveal a battered white haori with the insignia of the Eleventh Squad decorating the wide expanse on the back. With a choked sob, Katsue hugged the thick cloth to her chest and ran, half stumbling on her own feet as she leapt to the nearest roof top. "Oi, Katsue!"

A heavy restraining hand settled on his shoulder, and Ichigo spun around ready to sink his fist into whoever the hell was trying to keep him back. Renji frowned at him, and slowly shook his head. "Orihime-kun, will you go make sure she is okay?" he asked quietly. It was the first time Ichigo had heard him speak all day.

"O-okay," Orihime stammered, her eyes soft and watery with her own emphatic tears as she looked over the hard faces of the four men standing before her. Even Rukia's face was cold stone as she stared at her comrades.

"You need to understand, Ichigo," Renji spoke slowly, "that right now there are four squads in Sereitei without a captain. The Eleventh is our first line of defense and offense, and they are without a leader."

"Who gives a fuck about—"

"If Aizen were to attack, there would be nothing in his way," Renji replied, just as calm as he was before. "We need Captain Zaraki back in his seat. And that ain't happening without Katsue back in Sereitei, assuming that Yamamoto doesn't decide that we're all better off without him."

Ikkaku growled, his eyes still tracking Orihime's retreating form far down the street. "The Eleventh refuses to do shit without him. They're getting' fat and lazy drinking all the liquor in Soul Society. Not to mention the brawlin'."

Renji gave him a flat stare. "No doubt thanks to your encouraging."

Grinning, Ikkaku clapped Renji on the shoulder. "You know, Captain Kuchiki seems to be sidin' with us, too."

"You gotta be shittin' me," Renji sighed.

**XXXX**

"Katsue-chan!" Orihime panted as she stumbled to a halt, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. As if the older woman sensed Orihime's distress, Katsue finally slowed to a stop on the corner far ahead of Orihime. She was still clutching Zaraki's haori to her chest, her gray eyes roiling and over flowing with tears as she looked back at Orihime.

Swallowing a knot in her throat, Orihime hurried to catch up at a much more relaxed pace. Katsue remained blessedly still on the corner, rocking back and forth on her feet slightly. With kind eyes and a sad smile, Orihime wrapped her arms around Katsue's waist and rested her head against the woman's shoulder. Katsue's whole body shuddered with a sob.

"You and Ken-chan are close?" her voice was soft, kind.

Katsue nodded, her face buried in the folds of the haori in her arms. It smelled like him still—like sweat, spices, and that ridiculous rose-scented shampoo that Yachiru made him use. It was such a wonderful smell.

"It wasn't right what Ikkaku-kun said," the girl went on, still holding Katsue in her fragile arms. "I think you had to be a very strong woman to come here without him. I think you had to be a strong woman to even catch Ken-chan's attention."

"I didn't think he would react like this," Katsue murmured between her sobs. She was getting Zaraki's haori wet, she was mortified to find. She sniffled, trying to force back the tears that made her eyes ache. "I knew he'd be mad. I didn't think he'd…that he'd throw everything he had away. For me."

"He must not see it that way, Katsue-chan," Orihime's warm embrace fell as Katsue turned around to face her, her delicate hands stroking the Eleventh's insignia on the haori. "It's kinda like what Kurosaki-kun did for Rukia-chan," her voice faltered, and Katsue finally looked up at the young woman. Tears were shimmering in Orihime's own eyes as she gave Katsue a sad smile.

"Oh, Orihime-chan," Katsue threw her arms around the small girl, hugging her fiercely. "Kurosaki would do the same for you," she said heatedly.

Orihime sniffled, hugging Katsue back just as strongly. "Sometimes, though, Katsue-chan," she whispered past her tight throat, "Sometimes you need to break the rules. Sometimes it's the right thing to do. People in power are human, they're not infallible. Kurosaki-kun taught me that."

Without warning, Katsue shoved Orihime to the side, pushing the smaller woman into the hard cement wall of a residence's privacy wall. The earth trembled seconds later, as a humongous fist buried into the cement where the two women had been standing moments ago. Eyes wide in horror, a scream tore out of Orihime's throat as the fist pummeled the shapeless form of Katsue into the cement.

"Run, Orihime!" Katsue screamed.

Orihime almost collapsed in relief as she saw the Shinigami, clad in her shihakusho, standing only a few meters away. The gigai would be unsalvageable, but thank gods that it was only a doll.

The hollow screamed its fury and withdrew its fist, leaving an oozing puddle of white plastic material in the crater of cement. Roaring, it lashed out again, aiming its massive fist for Orihime. Katsue intercepted, bringing up her zanpakutou to block the attack. Snarling like a feral cat, Katsue braced her sword with both hands as her sandaled feet dug into the cement in front of Orihime.

"Run!" she repeated, growling the word between gritted teeth.

"O-okay," Orihime nodded slightly, hesitantly, before she turned and fled down the street. She screamed as another hollow intercepted her, its slavering jaws looming far above her head. "Katsue-chan!"

Cursing, Katsue slipped past the first hollow's fist and raced for Orihime. The girl shouted some words, bringing up a barrier of light as the second hollow attacked her. Orihime cried out in pain as the creature's javelin-like tail crashed against the shield, knocking the woman flat on her ass.

"Roar, Mouko Shuurajo!" red light flashed along Katsue's zanpakutou as the blade shifted and morphed under her touch, growing the sharp serrated teeth that Katsue knew and loved. With a savage snarl she leapt, bringing her released zanpakutou down on the thick length of tail. Screaming, the hollow snapped its stump of a tail up and knocked Katsue to the sidewalk.

"Katsue-chan!" Orihime called out as she watched Katsue's lifeless body skid to a stop. Blood was pooling under her head, staining the white haori Katsue had thrown on over her shoulders. "Katsue!" she screamed again, rising to her feet and racing to the unconscious Shinigami's side. Hollows roared all around her, the earth shaking with their foot steps and the air crackling with their spirit energy. Tears stained Orihime's cheeks as she called on the strength of her Shun Shun Rikka, the little sprites that formed her shields flaring to life just in time to block another hollow's attack.

A low, rumbling growl from behind Orihime made her look away from the small force of hollow that were lumbering towards her and Katsue. She stared, eyes wide, as the Shinigami slowly pushed herself onto her hands and knees. Blood still oozed through Katsue's auburn hair to drip lazily onto the side walk. The woman's eyes, however, were blazing red as she glared hatred at the oncoming hollow.

With a guttural snarl, Katsue was on her feet and rushing towards the closest one, Mouko Shuurajo singing as she swept it through the air. All Orihime could do was watch, stunned and horrified, as zanpakutou met the claws of hollows.

* * *

Another A/N:

So far in this arch I have Isshin still playing ignorant to his son's night time habit of running around with a big-ass sword killing things. And of course we all know that no one knows about Isshin being an ex-Shinigami himself, so I tried to play that off. This goes against the way I see Isshin a bit, since Tite Kubo has admitted that he's an ex-Captain. I debated making him the old leader of the Eleventh, because that would just fit so gloriously. But I didn't want to complicate things any further...sad face. It will have to just be another story for another time. Or maybe I'll publish the deleted scenes I wrote with Katsue recognizing him as her old captain at the end, as a sort of "bonus" read. Oh, the possibilities...


	14. Chapter 14

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 14/?  
Rating: MA for smut, coarse language, and violence.  
Warnings: Coarse language, as always.  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. I am forever the slave to his world. Nanashi Katsue is mine.  
A/N: A chapter of character development?

* * *

Hitsugaya Toushirou grumbled to himself, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back against the heavy stone door he stood before. His vice captain, Matsumoto Rangiku, sat on the floor in front of him with the little vice captain from Eleventh Squad crying in her lap. The little girl hadn't stopped wailing since Captain Zaraki had been locked in Senzaikyuu. It was impressive, really, considering that had been well over six hours ago.

"Can't you get her to shut up?" he huffed irritably.

"You can't blame her," Matsumoto sighed, "She thinks they're going to execute Captain Zaraki."

At her words, Yachiru's crying grew louder and more frenzied, her fists latching onto Matsumoto's hakama as she thrashed around in her lap.

"They're not going to kill him, damn it!" Hitsugaya yelled at the little girl, eliciting a momentary silence from her as Yachiru blinked in surprise. Then, with a trembling lip and a sniffle, she began again. Growling his annoyance, Hitsugaya pounded a fist against the stone door. "How do I get her to shut up?"

"You don't," came the growled response from the other side. Zaraki Kenpachi slouched in the darkness of his cell, his yellow eyes blazing fiercely as he listened to his little girl's voice. It was muffled through a good twenty centimeters of stone, but it was loud enough to keep him royally pissed off.

His chest rumbling in dissatisfaction, Zaraki slowly started to untie the bells from his hair. The sekkiseki stone the tower was built of was slowly starting to eat away at his spirit energy, and he sure as hell needed every little advantage he could muster for what he had in store for Sereitei. One by one the bells fell to the floor by his side, the only other sound in his rock prison other than his growl.

"Oi, runt," he snarled and ran a hand through his hair, feeling the strands slowly part from their spikes to hang around his strong chin. "Where you stand in all this shit?"

Hitsugaya sniffed irritably, fully aware of Matsumoto's calm eyes on him. "Why does it matter, Zaraki?"

"Tryin' to decide whether or not to kill you when I get out of here," he rumbled.

"I think you have targeted the wrong people," the short captain huffed. Yachiru's wails seemed to quiet, if only a little bit. "I'm only doing my job, Zaraki. You and that woman's relationship is not my business," with a deep sigh, Hitsugaya turned his head so that he talked towards the stone door. "Although I have to say, I never thought I'd see you act like this over a woman."

Zaraki snorted with a derisive laugh. "Me either," he rumbled.

They both fell silent, with only Yachiru's sobs to keep them company. Eventually the little girl wore herself out, curling up on Matsumoto's lap and falling asleep. Hitsugaya nodded at his vice captain as the tall woman gently gathered the little girl up in her arms, and left. Alone on the broad walk that led to Senzaikyuu, Hitsugaya turned his head up to look at the stars. Night had fallen in Sereitei, and no doubt there would be more rioting.

"It is rather quiet up here," a calm, cold voice redirected Hitsugaya's attention. He curled a lip in a silent grimace as he watched Captain Kuchiki prowl towards him. The arrogant ass was following Hitsugaya's stare, and watched the stars for a moment. "You may leave."

With a growl, Hitsugaya pushed himself up from against the door. "It is still my watch, Captain Kuchiki."

Slowly, and with all the arrogance that Byakuya could muster, he turned his cold black eyes on to Hitsugaya. "And I said you may leave, Captain Hitsugaya."

With a hand on the hilt of his zanpakutou, Hitsugaya snarled irritably and shoved past the captain of the sixth squad. "One day, Byakuya, your rank as nobility won't get you what you want," he growled.

Byakuya sniffed, peering down his long nose as he turned ever so slightly to watch Hitsugaya disappear down the far side of the walk way. "As if it ever has," he murmured under his breath, before resuming his purposeful walk towards the door to Senzaikyuu. He paused as he reached the warm stone, and then placed a hand flat against it. "Captain Zaraki?"

A loud thump sounded and the door shook. Growling and snarling, Zaraki slammed his fist against the door again. "Come to rub it in, asshole?" he roared. His reiatsu flared up as he punched at the door again, satisfyingly knocking a good sized chip out of the stone.

"Quiet," Byakuya growled back, his voice so low that Zaraki struggled to hear him. His chest was heaving with ragged breaths, and his heart beat pounded in his ears. Slowly, he calmed his massive bulk as he strained to hear the words that Byakuya was saying. "Even if you do break out of this tower, Zaraki, you can not pass through the Soul Gate without a seal. They are not stable enough to hold up under the spiritual pressure of a captain—"

"Bullshit," Zaraki snarled and pounded his fist against the door once again. "That Kurosaki bastard passed through, and he's at the level of a vice captain. It didn't do shit!"

"The Soul Gate in Sereitei is built to hamper the passage of vice captains and captains," Byakuya hurried to make himself heard again. It was irritating and annoying, he thought, that he was here in the first place. To think that he was helping this brute! "If you wish to pass through to the real world, you will either need to use a private Soul Gate from one of the noble families, or stay in that tower until you are weak enough to pass."

"What the hell are you getting at, Byakuya?" Zaraki snarled, pressing close against the warm stone. Just touching it, he could feel the cursed material sucking away at his spirit power.

Byakuya resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You wish to get your woman back?" he murmured.

Zaraki only snarled in response.

"Then you need to stay here, or wait until you are sent to the real world yourself."

"As if that will happen. I see you're so eager to volunteer the use of your private Soul Gate, you bastard!" he pounded at the stone again, splintering off another piece of the otherwise pristine white stone.

"No matter your reasons, Zaraki, I would not sully my family name by having you walking through my houses and using my gate," Byakuya replied coolly, his voice monotonous.

"Then why the hell are you here, asshole?"

Byakuya closed his eyes and counted to ten. Patience, he reminded himself, not everyone had the manners of the nobility. "Do not look a gift horse in the mouth, Zaraki."

"Me an' you never get along. Why the fuck are you here?" Zaraki persisted.

"This is not the first time Yamamoto has tried to separate a captain and their significant other," Byakuya huffed. "Despite the lack of law saying that we may not have a partner, he deems it as a weakness in the defense of Sereitei." He tried not to think of his deceased wife—tried not to picture her face on the pillows beside him when he went to bed at night. He tried, and failed miserably.

Zaraki rumbled with a deep growl and turned away from the door. He sagged against it, slowly sliding to the floor with an exhausted sigh. "Go the hell away, Byakuya," he grumbled.

Byakuya sniffed disdainfully as he turned, his deep black eyes closing. "Unfortunately, it is my watch now that I have dismissed Captain Hitsugaya. I suggest you get comfortable with my company. And please, do not try to break out while I am here. It is embarrassing having to wrestle you to the ground."

Zaraki snorted and closed his eyes, relaxing his head back against the sekkiseki stone. "This door is comin' down the moment I can make it through that damned gate," he rumbled.

Byakuya ignored him. He was focusing on his breathing, meditating even as he stood sentry in the cold night. His chest rose and fell with his deep breaths, his pitch black hair stirring around his strong, angled face as the wind played with his clothes. Unconsciously, he was watching the burning beacon of Zaraki's reiatsu slowly fall lower and lower. The brute was right, Byakuya thought. That door would come down, either under Zaraki's own force or Byakuya's. Either way, the captain of the Sixth Squad was not up for watching the stone suck another Shinigami dry of their spirit power as it had his little sister. Nor was he going to sit idle while Yamamoto dared to interfere in the private lives of his captains.

**XXXX**

Matsumoto gripped the hilt of her zanpakutou as she darted into the officer's dormitory in the middle of the Eleventh Division. Yachiru was passed out cold in her arms, the little girl's chest rising slowly with her shallow breaths. She was careful not to disturb the girl, but she was honestly more worried about the child's subordinates.

Loud voices were yelling and calling out in the night, shouting threats and oaths at any who dared to pass the gates of the Eleventh. They were on the verge of rioting again, Matsumoto thought as she slunk through the halls searching for Yachiru's room. The moment Zaraki's squad had discovered what had happened to their captain, all hell had broken loose. It was no surprise, really, when the entire Eleventh consisted of the most violent men and women ever to graduate from the Shinigami Academy.

She opened a door slowly and peered inside, only to find the tell tale signs of a male's occupancy. Sure enough, she had found Ikkaku's room. One wall was decorated with posters of scantily clad women, another with weapons racks that held sharp objects of varying sizes, shapes, and lengths. Matsumoto rolled her eyes, barely suppressing the urge to violate Ikkaku's room as she closed the door.

The next door opened on Yumichika's room, which was painted a pale red with blue accents. It was a pretty nice room, Matsumoto thought as she eyed the vanity and its rows of facial powders and make up. Much too feminine to be a man's, but then again, this _was _Yumichika.

The last door on the bottom floor proved only to be the fourth seat officer's, some nameless man that Matsumoto had never bothered meeting before. He had no business being an officer, she thought. But Zaraki hadn't felt the urge to strip the man of his position after he took over the Eleventh Squad, and Yumichika had favored taking the fifth seat for his own instead of his proper place as fourth.

With a sigh, she trudged up the steps towards where she knew Zaraki's rooms lay. Yachiru stirred in her arms, her eyes barely open as the girl lifted her head to look around. Without Matsumoto prompting, the little girl pointed to a door at the end of the hall. As she settled back in, Matsumoto slowly made her way to the huge, daunting door.

She stepped into a barren space that could only be Zaraki's room. "Don't you want to sleep in your own bed?" she whispered softly against the little girl's pink hair.

Yachiru whined and shook her head, pointing a little finger at the mass of blankets and pillows that Matsumoto assumed was Zaraki's bed. Blushing at the pile of ripped and bloody laundry in one corner of the room—there was a pair of bright red panties on top—Matsumoto carried the little girl over to the bed and gently set her down. Immediately, Yachiru snuggled into the mass of blankets, only her eyes peeking out at Matsumoto.

The woman gave the girl a sad smile, before slowly sitting down on the wooden floor beside her. "Everything will be okay, Yachi-Yachi," she whispered.

"They're gonna kill Ken-chan," the girl pouted, her voice muffled by the blankets.

Matsumoto shook her head, her golden-red locks brushing the wide expanse of her impressive cleavage. "They won't. Zaraki has done worse, you know that."

"But he was gonna kill the old fart!"

"Do you really believe that?" Matsumoto pressed softly. Yachiru whined again as she thought. Finally, she shook her head again. "Me either. I think Ken-chan was just trying to make a point."

"Will they kill Nana-chan?"

"For what? Being in love with Ken-chan?" Matsumoto ruffled her hair. "She did nothing, and everyone knows it."

Yachiru sighed softly before sitting up, the blankets falling away from her small body. Her eyes were large and watery, her bottom lip trembling as she looked up at Matsumoto. "I want Ken-chan and Nana-chan to be happy together. I like having a mommy and daddy again."

A sharp pain stabbed at Matsumoto's heart as she bundled the little girl up in her arms again. She hugged her close, even as the vice captain started crying again. She whispered soothing words, stroking the girl's soft pink locks as she rocked her in her arms. "Everything will be put to right again soon, Yachi-Yachi."

Both of them jumped as a loud crash sounded somewhere outside, followed by drunken cheers. The rioting started, Matsumoto knew, as she hugged the little girl closer to her chest. The men and women of the Eleventh would wreak havoc in Sereitei for the second night in a row, and no doubt other squads were mobilizing to minimize the damage. Where they would put the rioters for tonight, she didn't know, since the jail was still full from last night.

"They have to put Zaraki back in his seat," she whispered heatedly, as much for the little girl's benefit as for her own.

**XXXX**

Captain Unohana Retsu was struggling not to cry. As it was, her eyes ached and were unusually itchy as she sat on a small bed. She looked at the pristine pillow beside her and placed a small, creamy hand on the stark white. This was Katsue's room, she told herself as her eyes swept over to the nearby night stand. This was the woman's room when she first came to Unohana, angry and broken over one hundred years ago.

It had taken her a long time to break the thick walls the young woman had built around herself. When she had come to Unohana, she was full of pain and hatred. Her wounds were still healing from her duel with her own captain, and every day they seemed to act as a reminder to the girl why she hated the world around her. It took years upon years of patient and kind handling for Unohana to even gain the woman's trust.

But she had won out in the end. Once the woman had forsaken her fighting knowledge and adorned the roll of a healer, she had slowly begun her own arduous healing process. It was a long time until Unohana had first seen her smile—it was small and timid but brilliant none the less. And eventually it became more common, and accompanied by a pure, bell-like laugh that warmed Unohana's heart. This was why she was a healer, she had told herself over and over again as she watched the young woman stumble along the healing path.

When Unohana had discovered her involvement with Captain Zaraki, she had nearly lost the calm, cool nature she had worked so hard to obtain. It would be her luck that all the work she put in to recuperating the young woman would be destroyed at Zaraki's reckless hands. She did not like it, she did not approve. She had tried her hardest to convince Katsue that what she was feeling was only a dangerous attraction to disaster. It was common, she had told her, for a young woman to find a man like Zaraki attractive solely for the thrill of acting out.

She didn't think that anymore, as she sat in Katsue's dark room. There was barely nothing left of the woman in this room. The walls were still that soft blue color that she liked so much, but the shelves and drawers were empty. Her nightstand was void of whatever book she was currently reading, and the small photo of her deceased mother.

Unohana wiped at her eyes, and shocked herself to find that her fingers came away damp. With a sad smile she patted the pillow and stood, squaring her soft shoulders and taking a deep breath.

A chime sounded in the room, shattering her momentary peace. The hell butterfly lit on her shoulder, before flapping delicately in front of her. "Rogue Shinigami," the butterfly called out, the operator's voice shaky, "In the seventh section of Karakura Town. Captain Unohana and Captain Kuchiki, you are to report to the Soul Gate."

Rogue Shinigami?

Panic gripped Unohana's heart as she wiped hurriedly at her eyes, trying to banish the signs of her weakness. As she hurried to the door, she prayed that whatever signs of her tears would be long gone by the time she encountered a living soul.

**XXXX**

Kuchiki Byakuya didn't even frown at the butterfly that lit on his shoulder. He listened to it repeat its message one more time, before he looked over his shoulder at the sekkiseki stone door. It figures that he would be right, he thought, as he finally let out the breath that he held. "I'll be right there," he murmured to the butterfly. With a soft chime the thing dissipated back into darkness, leaving Byakuya alone with his thoughts.

His hands slowly squeezed into fists as he completely turned to face the door. Would he break the laws once again? He had already forsaken his duty twice in the past, and he had sworn that it would never happen again. But after that Kurosaki child came, and rescued his sister…

His eyes closed, his breathing growing deep as he took a moment to gather his thoughts.

Stealing his resolve, Byakuya slowly made his way over to the door. He pressed his hand flat to a small panel beside the cursed thing. A chill ran up his spine as slowly the mechanizations that locked the door released. With a low rumble, the door slowly ground open.

Zaraki Kenpachi stood on the other side, his chest heaving with angry breaths as he rumbled and growled angrily. His eyes were an electric yellow as he glared at Byakuya, his hands clenched into claws as his lips peeled back over his teeth. "Big fuckin' mistake, Byakuya," the brute snarled.

Byakuya regarded him calmly, before boldly turning his back to the man. "We've been summoned to the real world. I suggest you take advantage of the situation and come with me, calmly."

Growling, Zaraki considered him for a moment before he stepped out of the shadows of his dark prison. His hair was lank and loose around his shoulders, every muscle in his body taught with frustration and anger. "You don't do shit for other people unless it benefits you."

"Right now, I have a team of Special Ops guarding my home because one of your men decided to write lewd messages on my privacy wall with urine," Byakuya grunted disdainfully and started strolling back down the walkway, trying to pretend that he didn't care if Zaraki followed him. "Half of your squad is rioting as we speak. A quarter is locked up in jail. And Sereitei is without its main mean of defense. I think that benefits not only me, but the entirety of Soul Society."

There was a long moment where Byakuya thought that maybe, just maybe, Zaraki decided to kill everyone instead of playing along. He was rewarded though as a loud growling presence followed him closely. "Where's my zanpakutou?" the brute snarled.

Calmly, Byakuya gestured to a glass case that was tucked against the wooden railing at the far end of the walkway. It was the last place he would have held his enemy's weapon, he thought as Zaraki shoved past him and slammed his fist through the feeble glass. He wrapped a bloody hand around the hilt, growling in approval as the blade hummed softly under his touch. Definitely the last spot Byakuya would keep a confiscated sword. He would have to talk to whoever was in charge of these things.

"What the hell is happenin', anyway?" Zaraki rumbled as Byakuya calmly walked past him.

"Apparently, there is a rogue Shinigami in Karakura Town," he replied.

"_Katsue_," Zaraki breathed and shoved past him again, leaping down entire flights of stairs as he rushed down the adjoining tower to the Senzaikyuu.

With a sigh, Byakuya used his shunpo technique. It gave him immense pleasure to wait calmly and patiently at the Soul Gate as Zaraki came running up, snarling and growling and out of breath.

"Fuck you," the man growled at Byakuya's calm, smug look.

"C-C-Captain?" the third seat officer from Byakuya's squad nearly trembled beside him as he clutched an ink pot to his chest. "Z-Z-Zaraki Kenpachi has escaped!"

"I know," he replied casually and gestured to the massive man with a long finger. "Give him a seal also, please."

The officer nearly wet himself as he took hesitant steps to Zaraki's side. The beast's yellow eyes never left Byakuya, though, as he ripped open his kimono for the officer to paint a seal over his left pectoral.

"Captain Zaraki?" Unohana gasped as she finally joined her two comrades at the gate. Her vice captain was in tow, her eyes wide in surprise and her mouth open as she stared at Zaraki.

"He will be joining us," Byakuya was still the epitome of emotionless calm as he offered his arm to the woman. Unohana took his elbow absently, her eyes still locked on Zaraki's imposing frame as the man drew his zanpakutou in one easy motion. "Shall we?"

Still rumbling, Zaraki shoved past the both of them and tore the doors to the Soul Gate wide open. He moved quickly as his wide strides took him into darkness, with Byakuya and Unohana calmly following them. His eyes blazed, a yellow aura roaring up to encompass him.

* * *

  
My two favorite utensils while writing anything and everything:

1) A baby name web site. I find it a huge help to find names I like for any of my OCs.

2) Online dictionary. Learn it. Love it.

And as always, thank you for all the feedback!


	15. Chapter 15

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 15/?  
Rating: MA for smut, coarse language, and violence.  
Warnings: Coarse language, and violence.  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. I am forever the slave to his world. Nanashi Katsue is mine.  
A/N: Short, sweet, and to the point. And wth 3 updates in just as many days?! What can I say, the urge to write has hit me hard. Good thing, too!

* * *

Inoue Orihime was frozen in place from fear and sheer shock. Her legs wouldn't have been able to support her if she had thought of running, anyway. She was trembling where she sat on the hard, cold cement walkway, her fists clenched over her bosom as she watched the blood shed in front of her.

Nanashi Katsue was ruthless.

The Shinigami fought with tooth, nail, and sword as she dodged one hollow's attack, only to rip a limb off the next. Her full lips were peeled back from her teeth in a ferocious snarl that twisted her face, her eyes burning red. Blood still oozed from a wound on her head, making her auburn hair hang thickly around her shoulders. Every time she moved her hair whipped around her face, painting the white haori she wore over her shoulders red.

Orihime wanted to look away as Katsue sunk her zanpakutou into the flesh of a hollow's leg. She wanted to look away as the woman growled and bit at the huge knee, her teeth tearing away a chunk of flesh. Black blood spurted from the wound to stain Katsue's front as the Shinigami leapt away just in time to avoid a retaliatory swipe from the hollow.

"Orihime!"

Kurosaki-kun was calling her, she thought absently as Katsue assaulted the hollow again. The steel of her blade was shining with black blood in the moonlight as the woman lobbed off the creature's hand. Then, as Katsue's face turned into a wicked grin, Orihime had a horrified realization: she was toying with the thing.

"Orihime!"

Strong hands gripped Orihime's shoulders, wrenching her away from the horrific sight she could not tear herself away from. Kurosaki Ichigo was glaring at her, his face oddly twisted between concern and anger. That was Kurosaki-kun, she thought in a daze as a massive hand gripped the back of her head. He reacted to all situations with a measure of anger.

"Orihime, are you okay?" his voice was strong, barely containing any of the panic she knew he felt.

"She's going in to shock, Ichigo," Rukia's bright eyes appeared over Ichigo's shoulder.

"What the hell happened?" Ichigo pressed as he gently shook Orihime's shoulders.

Without warning, tears welled up in the girl's eyes as she looked over her shoulder at the scene behind her. Katsue was still grinning wickedly as she ripped a hollow's arm off with her bare hands. "Katsue-chan and I got attacked," she whimpered, trying to press her small body deeper into Kurosaki-kun's warm arms. "Look at her…"

Ichigo furrowed his eyebrows as he hugged Orihime against his chest, his eyes easily tracking Katsue's smooth movements as the woman launched herself straight at the gaping maw of another hollow. The one she had just finished toying with was writhing and screaming in pain in the middle of the street, missing each of its limbs. He watched, shocked silent, as Katsue did the same to the next one. When there was nothing left but a writhing torso and a screaming head, she ignored the hollow and went on to the third.

Renji and Rukia cursed simultaneously behind him, before he heard them both draw their zanpakutou. "Rukia, contact Sereitei. I'll deal with the leftovers," Renji barked, before he ran to the first hollow. He was merciful as he severed its head from its neck in one easy move, silencing its screams and sending its soul on its way.

Ichigo's blood went cold as he listened to Rukia's hurried voice speak into the little cell-phone contraption she held. "This is Kuchiki Rukia of Thirteenth Squad, asking for assistance in Sector Seven of Karakura Town. Shinigami Nanashi Katsue from the Fourth has engaged a group of hollow and gone feral. I repeat, Shinigami gone feral! Vice Captain Abarai Renji of the Sixth is engaging!"

Ichigo winced as Katsue spun around from her third hollow to find Renji decapitating the second. With a ferocious scream the woman launched herself strait at Renji, her zanpakutou flashing as she bore it down on the red head's blade. "Howl, Zabimaru!" he roared back, his blade snapping to life and burying itself into Katsue's shoulder.

The woman howled and withdrew, before attacking him again.

"Ichigo! We need to get rid of those other hollow before they eat Renji and Katsue!" Rukia snapped Ichigo's attention back onto the more pressing matter at hand. Sure enough, the remaining three hollow were cackling to each other as they formed a loose circle around the dueling Shinigami.

Spitting curses, Ichigo gently set Orihime aside and drew Zangetsu from its place on his back. "You watch Orihime. I'll take care of this," he growled, before leaping into the fray. Zangetsu bit through the neck of the first hollow, even as Ichigo turned to face the second. The creature roared in frustration and attacked, meeting Ichigo's sharp blade with a hand of razor sharp claws.

"You don't do shit like that, Katsue!" Renji's voice was a deep bellow as Ichigo took a moment to watch the two Shinigami cross blades again. This time when their swords met, Katsue lashed out with one hand and raked Renji across the face with her nails. Swearing, the red head lashed out at her with one foot and kicked her in the gut.

"Son of a bitch," Ichigo growled as his attention resumed on the second hollow just in time to avoid another attack. "Getsuga Tensho!" he roared and swung his blade through the air. There was nothing left of the second hollow by the time he finished his swing.

"Ichigo! Watch out!" Rukia's clear voice called from the sidelines.

A chill rippled through Ichigo's spine at the words he heard next. "Bankai," a low voice snarled behind him. He spun around in midair just in time to block a razor sharp claw that slashed at his back. "Eiji Mouko!"

Ichigo cursed in every language he could as he stared at the woman before him. Katsue's chest was heaving with heavy breaths, her hands sporting twin clawed-gauntlets. A long, slender blade ran up the outside of each gauntlet, furling out at her elbow. With a feral cry, Katsue launched herself at him, her fists flying through the air to swipe at his neck.

"You didn't tell me she had bankai!" Ichigo bellowed as he swung Zangetsu up in time to block the first attack. The second split the thick cloth of his shihakusho, her claws tearing into the flesh of his stomach.

"She didn't!" Renji roared as he leapt into the fray. Zabimaru lashed out angrily, the blade tip barely licking across Katsue's back as she twisted to dodge.

"Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime's screech snapped Ichigo's attention to the young woman. She was pressed tight against a cement wall, Rukia in front of her as the Shinigami brandished her zanpakutou at a huge, snarling tiger.

"Are you okay, Rukia?" he bellowed as the ethereal cat paced back and forth in front of her, growling and snarling as it looked over the two women.

"It's just a damn cat!" Rukia shouted back, pivoting on her feet to keep her sword between her and the tiger.

Cruel laughter sounded from just behind Ichigo before a searing pain sliced through his back. He fell to the earth with the weight that rocketed in to him, the momentum of his fall burying him deep into the earth. "Underestimating me," the woman on his back snarled before she pushed against him, leaping back onto the firm cement above them.

Cursing, Ichigo struggled to move. A paralyzing pain was spreading through his back from where Katsue had buried her claws into his muscle. Zangetsu vibrated its fury in his hand, urging his wielder to get back on his feet. His zanpakutou wanted to cut that bitch's hands right off her wrists.

"Stop underestimating me!" Katsue roared as she charged at Renji, one fist cocked back and ready to plunge into the soft flesh of his belly once again.

Renji snarled and swung his sword, aiming the arching blade towards the charging woman's legs. Eyes wide in horror, he watched helplessly as Katsue easily vaulted over the assaulting blade, her hands splayed wide as her claws flashed in the moonlight.

**XXXX**

Rumbling in malcontent, Zaraki paced back and forth in front of the tiny little shop that Byakuya had lead him to. He was pissed off to find that his two officers, Ikkaku and Yumichika, were slacking off and lounging around on their fat asses. They weren't slacking for long, he thought in satisfaction as he tossed an angry glare at the two. They were standing at attention, ram rod straight and too scared to look at the angry beast that was their captain.

"What the fuck is taking so long?" he snarled angrily at Byakuya. The arrogant ass was deep in conversation with Urahara Kisuke, some lame ass Shinigami that had abandoned Sereitei for the real worlds hundreds of years ago.

Byakuya considered him politely for a moment, before waving a dismissive hand at him.

Zaraki was stalking towards him with his zanpakutou drawn, ready to slice that prick's face up before Unohana intercepted him. "You must be patient, Zaraki," she whispered heatedly as the man lurched to a stop. His eyes were still blazing yellow as he glared at Byakuya. "Captain Kuchiki is gathering information."

"Don't need no gods damned information!" he snapped irritably. "All you need to know is where the hell the fightin's at! Now fuckin' tell me!"

Byakuya sighed softly before thanking Urahara, and turning back to the two captains. He was calm, cool, and collected as he stepped right up to Zaraki. "Five miles to the south west. According to Urahara, there were approximately seven hollows. I feel none now, however."

"Then let's get going," Zaraki snarled and nodded to his officers. Yumichika and Ikkaku leapt into action, darting down the street in the direction of the fighting. Zaraki spun angrily on his heel, following them at a fast paced prowl.

"We have to be careful, Captain Zaraki," Unohana breathed as her and Byakuya fell into step on either side of him. "A rogue Shinigami is a dangerous thing. And considering that we do not know who…for all we know, Kurosaki Ichigo is on the loose."

"It ain't Kurosaki," Zaraki grunted and flexed his heavy hand around the hilt of his zanpakutou. His eyes narrowed as he tracked the small points of movement that were his officers far in front of him. He'd have a word or two with them whenever this was over, he swore, for them ignoring a battle well within walking distance of their current position. Especially if it included his woman.

"Be that as it may, we do not know what we will find when we reach them!" Unohana persisted. "We must observe from a distance. See if Kurosaki and the others can handle the situation without us. If it is obvious that they can not detain the Shinigami without deadly force—"

Zaraki grunted and turned a glowing eye onto the small woman beside him. "It's a damned rogue," he snarled, "How the hell do you detain one without deadly force?"

His heart pounded the cage of his chest as panic slowly swept in to accompany his raw anger. It was Katsue, he knew deep in his being, who had lost herself to her zanpakutou. He should've seen it coming after all the warnings Unohana had given him. Especially after he saw her momentary loss of control on the battle field all those weeks ago. All he could think of then was how damn erotic it was to watch her fight like she had nothing to lose, but now…shit, he was worried he'd find her gutted in the middle of the street with Kurosaki standing over her.

Unohana gasped as they rounded a corner, one dainty hand covering her gaping mouth. Figures that she'd be worried about manners like that, Zaraki snorted before he followed her gaze.

His cock punched into an erection in his pants.

Katsue, in all her beautiful glory, had her fists buried into Kurosaki's back and was riding him like a rocket as he plummeted to the earth. She was laughing cruelly as she jumped away, her hair loose and wild around her face, her eyes glowing red as she moved her attention on to Abarai. Zaraki rumbled deep in his chest as he resumed prowling towards her. His eyes couldn't leave her lithe body as she danced out of Abarai's sword range. She was wearing his haori, and it looked bloody great dwarfing her lean body.

"Zaraki! Wait! She has used her bankai!" Unohana panted as she raced towards him, trying to keep him from reaching the feral beauty that was boldly charging Byakuya's Vice Captain.

"She don't know any hand-to-hand combat," Zaraki snarled and shoved the woman aside as she tried to put her small body between him and the woman he wanted. He laughed as his pace picked up into a flat out run, his path angling his huge body straight at Abarai.

The red head didn't know what hit him as he went flying to the side and into the nearby cement wall. Panting heavily, he lay in the pile of rubble for a moment as he looked up through the curtain of his loose red hair. He could feel blood trickling a path down the back of his head, and it was making him woozy. His eyes struggled to focus on the spot where he had been standing just a moment before, but he had to be hallucinating. There was no way that Zaraki Kenpachi was here in the real world. No fucking way.

Zaraki rumbled with a content purr as Katsue's clawed hands clashed with the blade of his zanpakutou. Her eyes were wide in surprise, momentarily dulling to roiling gray before she snarled her fury. Laughing, Zaraki let her swipe one hand across his broad chest. Her claws split his skin easily, drawing a line of red blood straight across his pectorals.

"Underestimating!" the woman snarled and attacked again. Zaraki grabbed her wrist, thrusting his face into hers with his own fierce snarl.

"Then quit makin' a jackass of yourself," he growled, yellow eyes blazing at red.

With a feral cry Katsue swiped at him with her free hand, bringing the blade that arched along her forearm up and around to slice at his arm. He roared with laughter as blood oozed sluggishly from the wound, and he caught her arm with his other hand.

Claws sank into his back and teeth clamped down on to his throat. A great, rumbling tiger tore at the thick muscles of his neck. He still laughed as he swept a leg behind Katsue's, catching her at the bend of her knees. She cried out angrily as she fell back, Zaraki falling on top of her with the momentum of her fall and the heavy weight of the tiger.

His lips crushed to hers as his legs wedged hers apart. She writhed and hissed angrily underneath him, but her body only served to rouse him even more as he felt the hot cradle of her body rubbing against his hard on. Her teeth bit down on his bottom lip, drawing blood as she savagely shook her head.

With a surge of reiatsu, Zaraki pounded her wrists into the cement above her head. He felt as much as he heard the cement crack and buckle under the impact. He growled and repeated the motion, feeling a satisfying snap under his hands. Katsue screamed her anger as her odd gauntlets broke.

He only laughed as the oppressive weight of the great cat on his back dissipated, the stench of its hot breath on his neck slowly disappearing in the wind. "_That_ was your bankai?" he rumbled and ground his hips against the ferocious woman underneath him. She screamed curses at him, her whole body trying to wrench her wrists from his grasp. "You don't even know how to box!"

"Eiji Mouko will rip your entrails from your gut!" she hissed, her teeth clamping down on the gaping wound the tiger had made on his neck.

Zaraki groaned and bucked into her, his own teeth nipping at the torn flesh on her shoulder. He licked his lips as he tasted her tantalizing blood, before he rumbled with a deep laugh. "Eiji? Just who the hell you tryin' to protect, eh? You almost severed Kurosaki's spine."

Katsue's red eyes darted to the side, where she could just barely see Orihime and Rukia rushing to Renji's aid. She hissed into Zaraki's flesh, before she renewed her effort to escape his oppressive bulk.

Zaraki followed her eyes, scowling as he spotted the woman who had invaded Sereitei with Kurosaki a few months ago. With a huge sigh, he climbed to his feet, hauling Katsue up with him. The feral girl roared and tried to tear away from him, her bare hands curling as if she still had claws as she tried to charge at Rukia. Zaraki tugged her body firmly back against his, his erection grinding into her round ass as he tore his haori from her small shoulders.

That had her wrath redirected back on him, he grinned excitedly as she spun around and lunged for the stained cloth that he was fitting on his broad shoulders. Her hands clenched at his shihakusho as she tried to practically climb over him to get the haori back. With a loud snarl he wrapped his arms back around her, his lips crushing down on hers.

Katsue froze in his arms, her red eyes wide and staring as she looked up into the hard angles of his face. Slowly, the light in her eyes faded as she traced his familiar planes. That scar that split right down through one of this man's eyes…

Zaraki rumbled happily as he felt Katsue's body melt against his, her small hands pulling him closer. She moaned against his mouth as his massive hands wandered over her body. He felt every inch of her that he could, savoring the feel of her trembling form under his touch. With a growl, he tugged her rump firmly, drawing her body closer to his throbbing erection.

Byakuya cleared his throat politely, and immediately found a pair of fierce yellow eyes and roiling gray glaring at him. "You are both under arrest," he spoke calmly, resting a hand on the hilt of his zanpakutou.

"Shove off, Kuchiki," Zaraki rumbled and let his chin settle on top of Katsue's head. She was trembling in his arms now, her body pressing even closer to his.

"For once, I agree!" Unohana huffed as she hurried to Zaraki's side—and the woman she thought of as a daughter. With trembling hands she tucked Katsue's blood soaked hair over one of her shoulders, her delicate fingers prodding at the wound on the back of her head.

Katsue whimpered and buried her face against Zaraki's chest. She visibly shrank in on herself as Unohana took a step back in surprise, her eyes wide with worry.

"You should make sure Kurosaki and Abarai ain't dead first, Unohana," Zaraki's voice was a deep murmur as he hunched over Katsue protectively. His eyes were still blazing yellow as he watched Unohana nod, as if she were in a daze, before hurrying over to the crater where Kurosaki still lay.

"Get me away from here," Katsue whispered against Zaraki's hard chest. She visibly shook now in his arms, his hands clenching to his kimono. "Please, get me away!"

Byakuya narrowed his eyes, before he let out a sigh. Zaraki was looking at him, the question blunt on his face. "Take her to Urahara's. I will return to Sereitei for orders. Until then, you are both under house arrest."

Barking with a short laugh, Zaraki gathered his fragile woman up in his arms. She was barely holding back her tears as he turned to his two officers, who had waited patiently at the side lines this whole time. Without a word they turned and lead Zaraki back in the direction he had come, towards the sanctuary of Urahara's shop.

Zaraki was so happy to feel Katsue against him again that he could have sung. Not that he knew any songs.

* * *

Random facts:

"Mouko Shuurajo" roughly translates to "Fierce Tiger Bloodshed" with the kanji I used for it. "Eiji Mouko" is roughly "Twin Protecter Fierce Tiger". I know, it's kinda corny. ~_~


	16. Chapter 16

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 16/?  
Rating: MA for smut, coarse language, and violence.  
Warnings: Coarse language nad nudity.  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. I am forever the slave to his world. Nanashi Katsue is mine.  
A/N: I've re-written this chapter so many times that I felt I beat it to death. It was either too gushy or too angsty or too whatever-y. This is the result! I'm rather satisfied, I think.

* * *

The air was so thick with steam that Katsue found it difficult to breathe, not that she wasn't having trouble as it was. As much as she tried to calm her heaving chest and her starving lungs, she just couldn't manage to calm down enough to relax. Trembling, she wrapped her arms around her naked body. Water poured down on her unmercifully from the shower head far above her, searing every inch of her skin. She didn't care that it hurt like hell, or that her entire body was slowly going numb.

Black blood swirled in the water at her feet, mixing with her own red blood before it slithered down the drain. She stared at it, trying to remember exactly what had happened to her tonight. Every time she came close to grasping the truth, her heart beat picked up and she begun hyperventilating again.

Cursing and choking back a sob, she slowly sank down to the warm tile floor. She hugged herself, trying to keep all of her limbs as close to her body as she could as she started to rock on her heels. What had she done? What had happened to her? What…what did the others think of her now?

And Zaraki…she could still hear him pacing outside the bathroom in the back of Urahara's shop. What must he think of her after everything she had done? At least he wasn't growling any more, she thought absently as she squeezed her gray eyes shut.

Big mistake, she choked as visions of her blood lust induced frenzy danced across the inside of her eye lids. As much as she wanted to scream that it was not her, she couldn't. She could remember the feeling, the emotion, as she slipped off the deep end of her mind. She was hungry, she was pissed, and she wanted to make something scream.

She had wanted to torture those hollows. She wanted to hear their high pitched screams as they lay helpless to her wrath.

The glass door of her shower stall slid open, and she ignored it. Katsue was too busy watching the monster she had become ripping into Kurosaki Ichigo's back, reliving the joy that she had felt as she tore at his muscles. Thick hands grabbed her under the shoulders, gently pulling her up on to her feet.

Zaraki grumbled under his breath as he stepped under the stream of burning water. His massive hands were holding Katsue against him, and as much as his hormones were screaming for him to push her against the wall and take her now, he resisted. Something was wrong with her, and he knew at the moment the last thing she needed was his horny school boy advances. That didn't keep his cock from standing at full attention, though.

Without a single word he lathered up a wash cloth, his nose itching at the smell of flowers that wafted from the block of soap. Gently, slowly, he ran the cloth over her back, running in circles as he washed off the last of the dried blood caked to her skin. She didn't move, or speak, or even look at him. All she did was lean against his hard, naked body while he took care of her.

His body was trembling with restraint as he ran the cloth over the firm, round curves of her rump. Gods, this was what his hell would be like when he died. With an irritated grumble, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face among the wet waves of her auburn hair. "Say somethin'," he rumbled.

She only shrank in on herself, quietly shoving a mile of distance between them even though her body was pressed to his.

"Katsue," he growled and fit a large hand under her chin. He tried to gently lift her face so that he could stare down in to hers, but she simply turned her head the other way. Was she refusing to so much as make eye contact with him?

Snarling angrily, Zaraki unwrapped his arms from around her frail body. He tried to distance himself like she did as he went about gruffly washing her body. But it just wasn't happening, he growled to himself. How the hell could he pretend he didn't want to talk to her, or touch her, or _be_ with her when she was bare ass naked and leaning against him? He could feel every soft, tantalizing inch of her skin. Shit, he could feel her nipples against the tense muscles of his stomach.

To hell with this, he snarled to himself. With heavy, firm hands, he deftly turned her around and tugged her rump firmly against him. His hands placed hers on the warm tile in front of them, while one of his feet pushed her stance wide. She complied readily, letting him move various parts of her anatomy until she was holding herself up against the wall, with Zaraki pressing himself against that perfect ass of hers.

Katsue stared blankly at the tile floor as his hands parted her hair over one slender shoulder. His lips brushed her neck, his teeth gently nipping at her skin. His heavy touch ran down her body, caressing her, trying to rouse some sort of reaction out of her. But her breathing still came in short, shallow breaths. Her body didn't respond to his, even as his touch rubbed against her hips and towards the delicious 'V' between her legs. She didn't even try to pull away, or fight back or…anything.

It was like trying to hump a mannequin.

"What the hell is wrong?" he growled under his breath. He wanted her. He wanted to bury every inch of himself in her body. He wanted to screw her until they both were too weak to stand. But he wanted her to want it as much as he did. Where was the fun if she didn't so much as breathe heavily? Or if she didn't even want him?

She remained comatose.

Zaraki was unusually quiet as he slowly, mournfully, pulled his body away from hers. His hands lingered for just a moment longer—trailing along the smooth planes of her back as his eyes raked over her body—before he shut the steaming water off. He stood there for a moment, watching her, waiting for her to push herself up and stand straight. When she didn't, he slid the door open to the stall, and grabbed the towel off the rack. He was careful as he wrapped the thick, soft cloth around her body. He left her there long enough for him to pull the thick fabric of his hakama over legs and bare hips.

"Can you walk?" his voice was quiet as he turned his eyes back on to her. She had finally pulled herself together a bit, and was standing hunched in the shower stall. With sigh he went back to her, bundling her up in his arms before he carried her out of the thick steam of the bathroom.

The hall was blissfully empty as he took her to the room Urahara had pointed out to him when Katsue first disappeared into the bathroom. He carried her straight to the plush bedding laid out on the floor and gently set her down. With all the care he could muster, he dried her still body and her beautiful hair. He ran his fingers through her long locks, combing out the knots and tangles that he could. Slowly, and with expertise that only plenty of practice could grant him, he braided her hair into one large cord.

Still nothing out of her.

Silently, like a giant prowling panther, he left her on the bedding and went to sit against the opposing wall. This way he could watch both her and the door to her room. He could protect her at the very least, he thought as he watched her tenderly crawl under the blankets and curl up into a ball. Even if she didn't want his company he would give it to her. Even if she didn't want him to be near, he would be just to support her.

His yellow eyes were like a night light illuminating the small room as she trembled on the bedroll.

**XXXX**

Orihime sniffled ever so softly from where she kneeled, her dainty hands outstretched over the large shield of her healing Shun Shun Rika. Kurosaki-kun was sprawled out on a bedroll beneath it, glowering up at the ceiling. He was a bloody and shredded mess, Orihime thought even as her eyes watched his many wounds knit together. "Feeling better yet, Kurosaki-kun?" she asked quietly.

He sniffed, his face screwing up as if he were about to yell. With a deep sigh, he relaxed before turning his head to look at her. "Feelin' great, Inoue. Thank you."

She smiled softly as a cut across his cheek disappeared. Her moment of peace with Ichigo was ruined as Renji snarled under his breath, before he began to heatedly argue with Rukia in quiet whispers.

A vein throbbed in Ichigo's forehead. "What the hell are you two fightin' about this time?" he spat angrily and sat up, breaking Orihime's concentration on her shield. The thing dissipated into nothing as she fretted and tried to help Ichigo sit up. He pushed her hands away gently, his eyes locked on the two arguing Shinigami.

Renji nodded over his shoulder towards where Ikkaku and Yumichika were lounging against the door way with strange looks on their faces. "I got orders to haul those two back to Sereitei," Renji growled and tossed a glare their way. Ikkaku simply grinned at him before stroking the hilt of his zanpakutou. Yeah, right, Renji thought as his eyes narrowed threateningly; they both knew Ikkaku could and would beat the shit out of him before being taken back to Soul Society.

"They have done nothing wrong!" Rukia argued, her slender arms crossing over her chest. "For all we know, they simply came here on vacation."

Renji rolled his eyes. "Still doesn't mean I can ignore my damn orders! Captain Kuchiki says they're needed to try and quell the riots or some shit."

"We aren't goin' back without Captain Zaraki and that bitch of his," Ikkaku grunted. His eyes met Ichigo's, a cold and serious look. "Especially without the woman. She needs training, and her kind of issue is Captain Zaraki's specialty."

"What the hell was that, anyway?" Ichigo growled and tugged the remaining scraps of his kimono up over his muscular shoulders.

"It happens sometimes when Shinigami don't properly bind with their zanpakutou," Rukia replied calmly. Her eyes were sharp as she looked at Ichigo, reminding him of the brush with death he had with his own zanpakutou before Zangetsu taught him the merits of their bond.

"Or when they're matched so perfectly that the zanpakutou's personality leaks out," Ikkaku snapped irritably. "Or when the zanpakutou gets neglected or suppressed. Or when the zanpakutou thinks its wielder goes out of line. Or when the zanpakutou proves to be too powerful for the wielder. There are a million of reasons, pick one and run with it."

Growling, Ichigo's hand found the hilt of his own zanpakutou as he rose to his feet. "I want to know every little thing that happened tonight to cause Katsue to go bat shit crazy like that."

"She…she was very upset," Orihime spoke softly, her voice almost drowned out by the aggressive snarls coming from both Ikkaku and Ichigo. They looked at her immediately, their voices falling silent. Smiling sadly, Orihime looked up at them from her spot on the floor. "I think Katsue-chan was starting to pull herself together when we were attacked. She narrowly made it out of her gigai before… She got hit, really hard. And when she got back up, she was…her eyes were red. And she did all those things."

Ichigo's face softened as he sank back down on his bedroll, his eyes meeting Orihime's on the same level. "What do you think about it?"

She swallowed nervously. "She was trying to protect me. Every time the hollows tried to attack me, she kept them off. Even after…after her eyes turned red, she was trying to protect me. And I think that tiger was, too," her eyes darted nervously to Rukia's. The older woman only nodded at her silently, a gentle encouragement. "It was trying to get Rukia-chan away from me, because it thought she was an enemy. And Katsue-chan thought you and Abarai-sama were, too."

Frowning, Ichigo sat back on his haunches and looked up at Ikkaku. The bald officer was staring down at Orihime, his face blank. "Sound right to you?"

"That time Captain Zaraki brought her here for the fight against the Adjukaruu," Yumichika spoke up quietly.

Ikkaku nodded. "She went into a blood lust then. She was tryin' to protect some wounded Shinigami. Absolutely made a mess out of those hollows. It was nothin' like tonight was, though. She didn't try to torture the things, or attack her comrades. She just killed 'em quick and kept tryin' to kill them."

"Okay, so we know what she was tryin' to do," Ichigo grumbled. "But why'd she got feral, as you guys put it?"

Ikkaku shrugged. "Told you to pick a reason and run with it. But if you ask me, it's 'cause she's kept that zanpakutou of hers leashed too tightly since she left the Eleventh Squad a hundred or so years ago. She hasn't whetted that blade since, until Unohana assigned her to our squad for medical assistance."

"I've talked to people in the squad about her, those that were around when she was," Yumichika's voice was still quiet as the eyes of every one in the room went to him. "From what I can tell, she did not go into blood lusts like she does now. She was a fierce fighter, yes, and often brawled with the best of them. But nothing like tonight or with the Adjukaruu. Ikkaku's idea makes sense."

"That's what happens when a warrior tries to become a healer," Ikkaku snorted derisively. "No way it could ever work out, if you ask me."

Orihime looked down at her lap, where she folded her hands. "I think it's admirable," she whispered.

"Not that you need to worry about that kind of thing, Inoue," Ichigo huffed before ruffling her hair. "So what are they going to do with her when Byakuya takes her back to Sereitei?"

"Train her," Ikkaku shrugged. "Stuff like this happens a lot. Usually the captain of the squad catches it before it becomes too big of a problem, and works the kinks out. She'll need to learn hand-to-hand fightin', too," he laughed uproariously. "Who ever heard of a Shinigami's bankai being a weapon they don't even know how to fight with?"

"Captain Unohana doesn't have much experience with that kind of thing," Rukia spoke up. "If she can not help Katsue control her zanpakutou…"

"As if Captain Zaraki will let them execute her," Ikkaku glared down at Rukia. "He'll set her straight if Unohana can't."

Ichigo's grip tightened on Zangetsu. "I'm not lettin' any of you go back if Sereitei's response is to kill you. To hell with their rules, they can come and get you if they want, and I'll be waitin'!"

"I'm touched," Ikkaku snorted. "But it ain't happenin'. They're gonna get tired of the Eleventh tearing Sereitei apart and they'll come begging to have the captain back in his seat. They'll give him whatever he damn well wants, even if it is a half-crazed woman."

"I'm personally hoping that they'll give him a new haori," Yumichika sighed dreamily. "Can you imagine the trouble I'll have to go through to get those blood stains out this time?"

**XXXX**

Orihime swallowed the knot in her throat, and forced her arms down at her sides. She needed to learn to stop clenching them to her chest, she thought as she stared at the rice paper door in front of her. She needed to work on her self-confidence. "Katsue-chan?" she called out softly. In the silence in the hall, she could just barely make out the sound of rustling blankets. "Katsue-chan?" she pressed, this time reaching out to knock softly at the door frame.

Silence.

"If you're listening, Katsue-chan, I came to take care of your wounds," she spoke gently, calmly, trying her best to keep the nervous tremble out of her voice. Katsue-chan wasn't a monster, she kept telling herself. She wasn't that crazy woman that Orihime had seen earlier in the evening. What she was, was an injured woman who needed help. "So I'm going to come in now, okay Katsue-chan?"

More silence.

With a deep breath Orihime slid the door open. She stood there for a moment, her eyes adjusting to the deep darkness beyond the door. A small smile turned on her lips as she spotted Captain Zaraki against the far wall, his head drooped against his chest as he slept. Katsue-chan was curled up on her bedroll, the blankets pulled up over her mouth, and staring into space.

Orihime's foot steps were silent, muffled by the thick woolen socks on her feet, as she went to the woman's bed side. "Katsue-chan, you're a lucky woman," she spoke softly, almost whispering, as she knelt on the floor. She touched Katsue's hair, feeling the soft silk under her fingers, before she gently pulled the blanket back from her face. "Ken-chan must really care for you, to stay by your side like that. He must be exhausted, too."

Katsue's eyes watered as she rolled over on to her back. She still stared at nothing as Orihime tucked the blanket under her arms.

"I can't even begin to imagine how you must feel right now," she whispered as her eyes fell on to the harsh wound at Katsue's shoulder. It had stopped bleeding, thankfully, and had even started to scab over. If Orihime was any other healer, she would have thought that the wound needed stitches or surgery to repair. Thank goodness that she wasn't. "I think I would be shattered, too," her voice was gentle as she spread her hands out over Katsue's body. Immediately, and without her prompting, her Shun Shun Rika sprang to life and formed a large shield over her body.

"I would be embarrassed, and scared," she continued, even though a good portion of her attention was focused on healing Katsue's many wounds. "I would be scared that…that Kurosaki-kun wouldn't like me anymore. I'd be worried that my friends thought I was a monster, or that I was going crazy…and I'd be scared that maybe I _was_."

Katsue's eyes moved to meet Orihime's, their deep gray depths still dull.

"I'd be terrified that it'd happen again, and maybe the next time I would kill someone. Probably someone very important to me," Orihime felt her own eyes filling up with suppressed tears. She almost didn't notice the huge shape that was Zaraki shifting where he sat. "But you're so lucky, Katsue-chan," she pressed as the gaping wound slowly melted away, revealing new, healthy tissue. "Because you have friends that know better. You have friends that understand what's going on with you and your zanpakutou, and how to fix it and make it all better. And you have Ken-chan to take care of you."

"Orihime…" tears spilled down Katsue's cheeks as life finally returned to her. She shook her head slowly, her throat too tight for her to speak.

"I'm right, Katsue-chan," Orihime was firm as she let the glowing shield of her power dissipate. Delicately, she took Katsue's hands in her own and squeezed gently.

"What I did to you," Katsue croaked, her hands squeezing the other woman's tightly. "And Ichigo. And Renji. And…and _my Kenpachi_…"

"We are your friends, Katsue-chan," Orihime whispered and held their hands up against her chest. "And friends are always understanding. They are always forgiving. And they don't turn their backs on their friends, no matter what. You saved me, Katsue-chan—"

"No…"

This time Orihime shook her head in denial as tears rolled down her soft cheeks. "Yes, you did. You protected me, and fought for me. Just like Kurosaki-kun does… And you did everything in your power to make sure I was safe. You fought to protect me because I needed it…because you're my friend. Thank you, Katsue-chan, for doing so much for me."

Katsue choked on a sob as she sat up slowly, her eyes squeezing shut to try and stem the flow of tears. "But what about Kenpachi? What I did to him, and poor Yachiru…I left them behind without a word, Orihime-chan. I turned my back on them—"

Orihime wrapped her arms around the larger woman, and held her close as sobs wracked her body. "You didn't turn your back on them," she said heatedly as her eyes met the burning yellow orbs of Zaraki's. The man was watching her and Katsue, completely silent. "You tried to save them the pain of parting."

"I should have told them. I should have told High Commander Yamamoto no. I should have…done _something_. Ikkaku is right, I can't say no to people who are higher in command than me. I scrape my knees the minute they tell me to kneel," Katsue sobbed, her hands clenching onto Orihime's clothes. "I don't stand up for myself!"

"Yes you do," Orihime closed her eyes, breaking contact from the powerful gaze that Zaraki had her locked in. She rocked Katsue gently, her hands rubbing small circles against her bare back. "You stand up to Ikkaku-sama and Kurosaki-kun and Yumichika-sama. You stood up to those bullies at school the other day. You fight to save yourself and your friends and people you care for. I bet you stand up to Ken-chan, too."

"High Commander Yamamoto—"

"If it weren't for people who knew how to follow their leaders, our world would be a mess," Orihime smiled as Katsue finally looked up at her, her gray eyes sparkling with tears. "And if it weren't for people who knew when to stand up to their leaders, it would be an even bigger mess, I think."

Katsue nodded slightly. "But I still screwed up…"

"Then tell him that," Orihime's eyes went back to Zaraki. He was scowling, as usual, but at least now his eyes were on Katsue and not on Orihime.

Katsue followed Orihime's gaze, her head dipping passively as she finally looked at Zaraki. Orihime's arms fell from around her as Katsue choked on another sob. "Kenpachi," she wailed and pushed away from Orihime, stumbling as she crossed the short distance between her and Zaraki.

He didn't say a word, only opened his arms wide as she threw her body down on the floor and against his reassuring warmth. She was a sobbing mess, he sighed as his arms enveloped her in a tight embrace. Still, she was _his_ sobbing mess. His yellow eyes flashed up to watch Orihime as she gathered herself together and slowly stood, turning quietly to leave the room. "Thank you," he growled at her back.

Startled, Orihime looked back at the massive form of Zaraki as he held Katsue's body close to his. The woman was crying herself to sleep in his arms, her face tucked against the nook of his neck. Blushing, Orihime bowed deeply to Zaraki and gave him a small, reassuring smile.

She closed the door quietly behind her, shutting out the sounds of Katsue's sobs and Zaraki's rumbling purr.

* * *

Things might be a little slow to roll after this. I'm planning another character development chapter or something (read: I want to write more smut). Iunno, we'll see!


	17. Chapter 17

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 17/?  
Rating: MA for smut, coarse language, and violence.  
Warnings: SMUT. And coarse language.  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. In Japan, this would be considered as a great tribute to his sucess and genius. In America, not so much. :(  
A/N: Gods, I can't believe how long it's been since I last updated. I'm terribly sorry. All I have to say besides that life was kicking my ass, is this: I DEFEATED WRITER'S BLOCK WITH A SMUT CHAPTER! :3

* * *

With a deep, very content sigh, Katsue pressed her body closer to the massive heat of Zaraki's chest. Despite her body feeling as if it had been put through a meat grinder, it was immensely reassuring, peaceful even, to listen to Zaraki's deep breaths and soft snores. His thick arms were wrapped possessively around her small body, his muscular legs entangled with hers. She breathed in and reveled in the spicy masculine scent of his body, tinted ever so delicately with roses. Smiling, she nuzzled his chest and thought of that stupid shampoo Yachiru loved.

Zaraki grunted, his hands shifting on her body until he gripped the back of her thighs. With another grunt he hiked her leg higher up, until he could grind into the hot cradle between her legs. "Mornin'," he snarled softly, his voice thick and heavy with sleep.

Blushing, Katsue's stormy eyes looked up to meet his. Surprisingly, his yellow eyes were watching her with a soft light that she was unaccustomed to. "Hey," she whispered.

A broad, toothy grin slowly spread across Zaraki's face as his eyes flashed. He lowered his face to hers, his nose lightly brushing over her own as he gave her a very heated, very erotic look. "Your eyes're red," he drawled as he cupped her perfectly plump little ass, his fingers massaging her quite thoroughly. "Wonder what that means…"

Panic made Katsue's heart flutter in her chest as she braced her hands on his chest and tried to push away. "Are you serious?" she gasped breathlessly, whether from the shock of the news that her eyes had gone psycho on her again or from Zaraki's physical attention, she wasn't sure. "I don't sense any hollows or anything—"

Laughing, Zaraki tugged her firmly against him, groaning ever so slightly as her breasts rubbed against his chest. "Lookit me again like you just were," he ordered her, his teeth flashing as he nipped at the tip of her nose.

"Damnit, Kenpachi!" she swore and wriggled in his grasp. "Stop playing! This is serious! What if I'm…what if I'm gonna lose it again?"

"Oh gods, I hope so," he purred, and let her wriggle against him, a deep rumbling starting up in his chest as he focused on the feel of her moving against him. She fell still suddenly, her burning red eyes wide in surprise as she listened to his sounds of pleasure. Grinning, he shifted against her, his rock hard erection slipping along the slick contours of her womanhood. "You're wet."

She gasped, eyes rolling back in her head as Zaraki moved against her, his hands massaging down her sore thighs and back up her hips. "But…my eyes," she protested weakly, even as her head lolled back on her shoulders and her back arched. He rumbled in content as she pressed against him, the soft flesh of her thigh sliding over his own as she wrapped it over his hip.

"Look at me," he snarled and watched her lips part in a silent gasp. He was rocking ever so slightly against her, the throbbing head of his cock just barely pressing against her hot core, threatening to invade her temple of a body.

She obliged without another protest, her eyes snapping open to gaze up at him. His own breath hitched in his throat as her eyes absolutely smoldered up at him with that smoky red color he couldn't get enough of. It reminded him of the forest fires that often plagued the fiftieth district of Rukongai—blazing heat on a smoky background, a wild, seductive inferno. And the way her auburn hair framed her face, her delicate brows drawn ever so slightly in a look that promised him a million pleasures—only if he could pleasure her—made the beast inside him stir in a manic way.

His own eyes flashed as he snarled, his hands locking on her hips and tugging her firmly against him. She cried out as he buried himself none too delicately into the searing heat of her body, his pearly teeth nipping ruthlessly at the soft skin of her neck. With a grunt he rolled them over so that she was laid flat out on her back, his hands pinning her arms over her head even as her legs wrapped tightly around his hips.

"Kenpachi…!" she gasped and writhed, her face screwed up in a desperate look as she moved under him. He simply growled in response, a shiver running down his spine as he felt her body flex all around him. Gods, she felt so much tighter than he remembered. Tighter, hotter, _wetter_. It had only been a few horridly long weeks since he last partook of her wonderful body; had it been so long that he had started to forget the feel of her?

"I don't know how to make love, Katsue," he snarled against her soft throat. Still rumbling his possession, he ran his tongue languorously up the curve of her neck until he could nip at her jaw. "But," he accented his words with a strong thrust of his hips, drawing another cry of pained pleasure from his woman, "I can promise you this…" He waited until her smoky red eyes met his blazing yellow, desperately pleading him to bring her sweet release. "I promise I'm going to fuck you dry."

She shivered, a husky groan escaping her lips as she struggled to free her arms from his iron grip. "Kenpachi," she growled seductively, mimicking his own animalistic rumbling, "you better carry through with that promise."

"Oh gods, you ain't leavin' this bed anytime soon," he snarled at her challenge, and let loose the Demon of Rukongai. With a deep, rumbling laugh he thrust into her viciously, a thrill of utter delight coursing through his veins at the delectable sounds she made as his cock ground into the silky tightness of her body. He could feel her muscles flexing, her hips angling up to receive him as her strong legs grasped his hips between them.

Katsue's eyes were burning up at him as she watched him, her lips parted as she panted under his massive bulk. How could she have ever left this, she thought as her eyes trailed along the taught, bulging muscles in Zaraki's neck. She struggled against his grip again, yearning more than anything to wrap her arms around his neck and burry her nails into the muscles of his back. She had to content herself with arching against him instead as his hips pummeled into her. The friction of his hard body rubbing deliciously against the sensitive nipples of her breasts made her sigh happily, before his wonderfully firm pelvis ground against her in just that perfect way—

"Kenpachi!" the moan tore from her throat before she even realized it was coming. Her body was burning up as his cock delved deeper, harder, faster. Any moment now his teeth would clamp on to her neck as he snarled and came, bringing her own release with his—

"Nuh-uh," he laughed cruelly and pulled out abruptly, the shock of his withdrawal making her cry out mournfully.

"What the hell are you doing!" she hissed and glared up at him, her hips angling and searching in vain to rub against his manhood. "Zaraki you bastard—

"I wanna taste you," he snarled heatedly, his heavy hands running down her arms, her swollen breasts, her taught stomach… His eyes followed the trail his hands blazed as he sat back on his haunches, until his mammoth paws were gripping her round hips. She watched, completely enthralled despite her fury at her lost orgasm, as he unconsciously licked his lips. He shifted backwards on their bedroll as he lay back down, only this time he was low enough on her body that he could hitch his thick muscled arms under her thighs to angle her hips towards his mouth—

"Oh…_gods_," she groaned and slammed her head back into the single flat pillow Urahara had given them to use. Her eyes closed, her lips parted, and she buried her hands into the soft locks of his loose hair. They tickled at her twitching and sensitive hips as he buried his face between her legs, his devilish tongue licking at her lazily. Such an abrupt change of pace, she swore under her breath.

Zaraki's groan of pleasure turned into a deep growl. "You taste like strawberries," he snarled against her searing core, before his lips wrapped around the little nub of her clitoris, sucking ever so slightly.

"Zaraki!" she hissed between her teeth as her hands gripped the back of his head tighter. "That is _cheating_," she whimpered, tugging at him gently.

"Beg me," he growled, yellow eyes looking up at her as she watched him run his tongue in tantalizing little circles around her most sensitive spot. She was panting heavily, her smoldering eyes half lidded as she struggled not to arch against his mouth. She was scowling at him. "No?" he quirked an eyebrow before nipping at her flesh. A cry escaped her lips as her hips bucked unwillingly beneath him, a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest. "I could do this all day, Katsue."

Her reiatsu flared angrily, enough that even he could feel the tell tale tingle ripple down his spine. "Damnit, Zaraki, I swear if you do not—"

"What?" he grinned wolfishly up at her. "If I don't burry my cock back in that tight little body of yours?" he delighted in the shudder that ran through her body. "If I don't make you come? I can do it like this, you know…" as if to demonstrate, he dipped his head back down and resumed ravishing her with his mouth.

"I swear," she growled between gritted teeth as she snapped her thighs closed around his head. He roared with laughter as he wrenched himself free, his hair mussed and a broad shit-eating grin on his face. "I swear I will buy a pair of iron underwear and throw away the blasted key if you don't royally screw me right _now_!"

"That's not beggin'," he rumbled and grabbed her hips. She squeaked in utter surprise as he flipped her over onto her stomach, his firm grip pulling on her hips until she was face down in the pillow, her ass in the air.

"You bastard!"

"Beg. Me," he growled and rose up onto his knees, jamming one between her legs until he could spread them wide. He grinned and ran a hand along the curve of her rump, before he gave her a firm slap. "Beg."

"I am going to beat you over the head with my zanpakutou!" she cried out and struggled to push herself up on her hands. Her angry cries fell silent as Zaraki lowered his head and trailed his lips along her spine, his hips pressing snuggly against the swells of her backside. "Kenpachi—"

"You know what I want, Katsue."

"Please," she rasped and pressed back against him, her dainty hands curling into fists on her pillow. Zaraki's reiatsu was bearing down on her, making it difficult to breathe as she panted and gyrated her rump against the throbbing length that was pressing into her. "Please, Kenpachi…please."

He was rumbling with a deep chuckle as his hands slid horridly slow across her hip, the rough calluses on his palms and fingers making her shiver. "Can't hear you," was his husky reply as one hand dipped across her pelvis, his long fingers toying idly with her soft flesh. Groaning, Katsue rocked back to the hard length that was pressed against her.

"I'm begging, Kenpachi! Now just do it!" she cried in frustration into her pillow.

"I just want you to ask nicely, Katsue," he growled.

"Fuck you, Zaraki."

Laughing, Zaraki pulled back just far enough for him to get in the right position, latched on to her hips, and buried himself back in her body. He bared his teeth in a savage grin as he looked down at her, eyes flashing and following the line of her spine. She was beautiful, he thought as he took his time reveling in her body. Her back was perfectly sculpted—lean and firm with muscle from her hundreds of years of swordsmanship. Even her time in the Third Squad hadn't been enough to soften those muscles. He could see every little twitch, every minute flex, as she arched her back like a cat, her slender arms stretching far in front of her as she moaned.

"Mine," he snarled quietly as his rough hands latched onto her slender waist. He loved how she was shaped—all voluptuous curves paired with a lean body. He had once over heard Ikkaku comparing her body shape to that of a bell's—so much unlike the typical scrawny sticks of women that were found in the Eleventh. He found himself suddenly appreciating exactly what that meant as her wide hips and narrow waist made the perfect handhold for him as he slammed his cock deep into her.

"Kenpachi…" she groaned as her body rocked on her knees, her long, thick braid falling over one shoulder. He watched it dangle there for a moment, her auburn hair standing out in beautiful contrast to her tan skin. The damned thing reminded him too much of Unohana's ridiculous braid.

"Unbraid your hair," he growled in response. She didn't even hesitate as she propped herself up on her elbows, her long, delicate fingers rushing to unweave the braid he had done only hours ago. A thrill of excitement rippled up his spine as he watched the loose curls of her hair fan out across her lean shoulders and down her back. Snarling, he slowly withdrew from her body…and thrust back in to her.

She cried out, throwing back her head and tossing her magnificent mane of hair as she did. A deep growl was rumbling from his chest as he thrust into her, over and over again. Each time his momentum caused her to rock forward on her hands and knees, her hair cascading back over one shoulder with each thrust. The auburn waves were mesmerizing and accenting the elegant curve of her neck—

"Kenpachi!" she practically screamed his name as he suddenly found his mouth clamped down on the taught muscles of her neck. He snarled into her searing flesh, delighting in the feel of her pulse between his teeth and the primitive idea that he was marking her as his—he hated that he couldn't see a hickey of his doing on her neck, or anywhere on her body, for that matter.

Her body went taught under his for the briefest moment, before Katsue's whole world shattered around her. With a hoarse cry she came for him, her hips bucking against his as her body squeezed him deliciously tight. Her delicate hands were fisted in their bed roll, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on her body as her mind focused on the simple feel of Zaraki against her. Everywhere he touched her, her body lit on fire. His hips cradled her ass in the perfect fit as he pumped ruthlessly into her. His massive hands gripped her waist perfectly, his fingers digging into her soft flesh in a desperate grip on her body. She could even feel the gentle brush of his nipples against the planes of her back as he leaned over her, his mouth biting down onto her neck in the most erotic way.

His thrusts were growing shorter, sharper, more ruthless each time he delved deeper into her body. She could feel the muscles in his body growing tight, could feel his heartbeat pounding faster in his chest, hear his breathing growing raspier against her throat. With a breathless gasp she moved against him, writhing languorously against his wonderful heat. She shivered at the sound he made—something between a groan and a snarl—as his hips bucked reflexively.

The rice paper door to their room flew open, just as a jubilant voice cried out, "Rise and shine, Nanashi! Training time!"

Zaraki _roared_, that was the only way Katsue could think of to describe it as she miraculously found herself pinned to the bed roll and the heavy blanket pulled up over her head. "_GET OUT!_" he bellowed and his reiatsu soared to peaks that Katsue had never felt before. She gasped breathlessly as she struggled with the blanket, trying to win enough freedom to at least be able to see what the bloody hell was happening.

A woman's voice laughed as Zaraki roared more curses, and the unmistakable sound of his zanpakutou clearing its sheathe seemed to echo through the room. "Training doesn't wait for life's pleasures, Captain Zaraki," the woman purred. "I'm doing you all a great favor by teaching the girl hand-to-hand combat." The woman paused, before drawling, "Well, you _do_ have quite the body…"

Anger flared up in Katsue as she finally managed to tumble free of the blanket. Immediately she was pushed behind the heaving mountain that was Zaraki's body despite her attempts to reach the hilt of her own zanpakutou. "Get. Out," Zaraki growled savagely as he panted. He was absolutely throwing off hate and menace as he loomed over the tall, lean woman that stood in the doorway. Katsue scowled at her from behind Zaraki, her eyes boiling red.

Soft gold eyes—cat eyes—regarded her coolly from the woman's face. "Get your clothes on, Nanashi. I gotta teach you how to fight with those pretty claws of yours before you go back to Sereitei. I'd hate for a woman like you to be executed simply because she wasn't trained properly."

"Who. Are. You?" Zaraki heaved. Katsue looked up at him with concern as she suddenly became aware that his arms were trembling. No—not trembling, _shaking_. She felt her own anger at the woman deflate as she regarded the death glare that Zaraki was throwing her way—she would hate to have that look directed at her. Suddenly she was more concerned for the woman's safety than she was for Zaraki.

Urahara poked his head around the door frame, a coy grin spread across his pale face. "Yoruichi-kun helped train Kurosake and teach him how to access his bankai. Hello, Katsue-kun," Urahara smirked and wiggled his fingers at her in a wave. "I never knew your tan covered your whole body!"

Zaraki roared again, his zanpakutou flashing in a blur through the air. Katsue squeaked as she found herself suddenly barred out in the open as Zaraki's blade clashed with Urahara's—the pervert of a shop keep and the Yoruichi woman were looking her over with appreciative eyes even as Zaraki bellowed curses and oaths at them both.

Blushing profusely, Katsue snatched the blanket from the floor and covered herself. "Just give me time to get dressed in private and I'll be right there!" she cried out in frustration even as the two grinned at her. Urahara winked, before both him and Yoruichi allowed Zaraki to shove them back out in to the hall. With another roar of irritation, Zaraki slammed the paper doors closed.

Eyes wide, Katsue watched his massive back heave with heavy breaths as he glowered at the thin doors. His hand was flexing tighter and tighter on the hilt of his zanpakutou, tight enough that she could hear the creak of hilt leather against his hot palms. It wasn't until she felt his reiatsu gradually dip down that she realized he was trying to control his breathing—in seven counts, hold, out seven counts, repeat. Slowly, ever so slowly, his grip on his hilt slackened and his shoulders slumped from their defensive pose. With a huge sigh, he looked over his shoulder at her.

"Why the fuck do we always get interrupted?" he grumbled, before he entirely turned towards her. With another mammoth sigh he crossed the room to her, pulling her roughly into a tight embrace. "Every fucking time, Katsue."

She stood there a moment in silence, simply enjoying the feel of his tight hug. It wasn't until he rested his sharp chin on her head that she grinned, her chest rising with a short laugh. "At least I got to finish," she cackled. Zaraki simply snarled at her.

**XXXX**

He didn't know how to detect reiatsu, it was a simple fact. But there were some people that Zaraki could always sort of _feel_. He didn't really know how to describe it; gods know that he tried many times whenever Yachiru pestered him about it. He always knew where his little charge was, he could always tell even if she were kilometers away. The same thing went for that Kurosake kid—who was, at the moment, downstairs in that freaky training room Urahara had. And the same applied to Katsue—she felt like a roiling suppressed heat to him, and it irked him beyond belief that she was with _Kurosaki_ at the moment rather than him.

Scowling, Zaraki reached out a hand and twisted the little silver knob on the wall with the big red 'H' marked on it all the way to the right. He didn't even flinch as the water went from searing hot to ice-cold as his other hand twisted the knob with the blue 'C' to the left. He did feel his skin go bat shit crazy as goose bumps rose up over every inch of his body.

"Son of a bitch," he snarled and stared down at himself. Go fucking figure, he thought as he watched the freezing water run in deep rivulets over his tense stomach and down his hips. He glared at the erection that still stood out proudly at his pelvis—the damned thing showed as much response to the cold water as he did. "You gotta be shittin' me," he sighed. Cold showers were the universal solution to a male's unwanted arousal. The blasted trick had worked for him countless times ever since that evil woman popped up in his life—no, that wasn't fair. _He_ had dragged her into _his_ life, and this was the damn price the universe asked him to pay.

_Great fuckin' job, Zaraki, you old bastard._

Grumbling his discontent, Zaraki stared at the row of plastic bottles that lined a shelf along one corner of the shower stall. Not a single one of them came in that gross bright pink he had become accustomed to. And oddly enough, that was the one he was looking for. It was hard to be stuck in a rut—in the most literal, biological definition—if you were a virile male that smelled like fuckin' roses. But no, the universe had to screw him again. With a snarl he snatched up a black bottle and didn't even hesitate as he poured the contents on his head. Whatever the stuff was, it smelled good. It smelled like how a clean man _should_ smell.

_Wonder if Katsue would like it?_

Cursing, Zaraki rinsed the suds out of his hair and scowled back down at the stubborn part of his anatomy that he seemingly couldn't rein in today. He hadn't realized how badly he had needed to get off until he was on the verge of doing so. Hell, how long had it been since him and Katsue had completed the deed? A week? Two weeks?

_Try a fuckin' month._

Gods, his balls ached. And the blasted cold water probably wasn't helping him with _that_, either. Snarling he cranked up the heat again, this time a shudder running through his body as he went from one extreme to the next. He had been holding his breath as he stared at his cock and the water turned hot, hoping beyond hope that maybe…

_Nope. Still hard as a rock._

Grimacing, Zaraki did something he hadn't done since he was an undersexed whelp scrounging around Rukongai. With a dejected sigh he touched himself, his hot, coarse hand gripping his shaft in a firm grip. How bloody pathetic, he thought as he braced himself with his other hand against the tile wall. He hadn't had to do something like this since his first blundering experiments with whores in the lower districts of Rukongai—when he had thought that a man like him was beyond the petty comforts a woman could bring. But shit, that was before Katsue screwed up that vow of celibacy. Before she proved that there was a woman out there that could get him rock hard if he so much as caught a whiff of her scent on the wind—a woman that liked it as rough as he did.

He snarled and pumped into his hand, baring his teeth in a fierce grimace. This is pathetic, he told himself over and over again as he drove his cock in and out of the firm grasp of his own hand. His woman was _here_, for the love of the gods, and why wasn't he pumping into _her_? Because of those blasted whelps that were trying to teach her how to fight with her hands? Couldn't _he_ do that? He had been in enough bare knuckle brawls to show her a thing or two. He should be the one teaching her, protecting her, showing her how to use those pretty hands of hers.

_To touch me._

Zaraki cursed and tightened his grip. Gods, what he wouldn't give to have that evil woman's hand around his cock instead of his own. He might be able to hold himself back from taking her long enough for her soft hands to get him pretty close to the edge. That would be one hell of an experience worth the effort, though. The simple image of her kneeling on the floor between his knees, while he lounged back in a chair and watched her soft hands work over his hard cock… Hell, maybe she'd put those pretty lips of hers against his flesh.

He was subconsciously aware of Katsue's reiatsu—feel, whatever the hell it was called—subtly shifting. It had his cock absolutely throbbing in his hands as he thrust and thrust into his grip, reveling in the feel of skin shifting over the hard core in his hands. With a savage grin he stared at himself as Katsue's reiatsu reacted to his own. Trust his woman to be able to pick up on the subtle variations of his own reiatsu—especially the energy spikes that came along with his shifts in moods.

_Hope you can concentrate on training while I'm pleasin' myself, Katsue._

Her reiatsu was flaring up along with his as he pumped faster into his hands. His fingers curled into a fist against the warm tile of the show stall as the muscles in his stomach went taught. Snarling, he watched as his cock kicked in his hand, the head swelling and then…

"Gods," he swore and closed his eyes, his head rolling back on his shoulders and turning his angled face up towards the rush of water. He was rumbling with a mildly content growl as he came, his tight grip ringing out every last drop of cum he could muster. Slowly, he grinned as Katsue's reiatsu went erratic.

Hell yeah, she sure as shit felt that.

'_At least I got to finish,' my as._ He snorted with laughter.

* * *

Revenge tastes so sweat, doesn't it, Zaraki?

I struggled trying to think of a good transition between the last chapter and the next plot arc, not to mention the fact that I hit writer's block. So I think this helped get me back on track. :D If not, I sure as hell enjoy it!


	18. Chapter 18

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 18/?  
Rating: PG-13 for coarse language.  
Warnings: Coarse language.  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. In Japan, this would be considered as a great tribute to his sucess and genius. In America, not so much. :(  
A/N: Yeah hi. No excuse for why this took so long. I haven't really felt like writing in a while so I guess I haven't been!

* * *

Katsue fell to the ground with a sigh of exhaustion, feeling eternally grateful to the giant boulder that supported her from behind. She was starting to doubt whether or not she had enough energy to breathe, let alone sit up on her own. At least Kurosaki didn't seem to be faring much better than her, she thought absently as the orange-haired Shinigami collapsed beside her.

"I really expected you two to last longer than this."

Katsue groaned pathetically as she looked up from half-lidded eyes at the woman standing before them both. Yoruichi hadn't even broken a sweat yet, and Katsue secretly loathed her for it. "Is your goal to kill the both of us today?"

Laughing, Yoruichi squatted down on her haunches in front of the both of them. She held out both of her hands, curled into fists, and waited until Ichigo looked up from where he was sprawled out. "You don't get a fighter's calluses without putting the work into it," she purred as both Ichigo and Katsue glared at her knuckles. The skin on her first two fingers' knuckles and joints were indeed covered in calluses. "Now let me see yours."

"I don't know why the hell you're making me do this," Ichigo growled grumpily as he stuck his hands up in the air. Katsue also offered hers to Yoruichi, even as she cast her eyes downward. Both she and Ichigo's knuckles were bleeding quite profusely. "I'm not the one that needs to learn this shit!"

"You're learning it because no Shinigami should rely one hundred percent on their zanpakutou," Yoruichi huffed and rapped her knuckles smartly against Ichigo's. He cried out and shot up, cradling his bloodied hands against his chest. "You may be able to get by in those street brawls you're always getting in to, but one day you will be disarmed and fighting an opponent that won't be defeated with a lucky blow."

Sighing, Katsue dropped her hands to her lap. She was silent as Yoruichi continued lecturing Ichigo on the benefits of knowing several forms of fighting style for several different weapons, all while she shoved bottles of water into their bloody hands. They had been at it all day so far, basically learning hand-to-hand combat from the very basics. First, Yoruichi had drilled them hour after hour on the proper way to make a fist and punch. It was so basic, something that every Shinigami learned the first day of their lessons at the Soul Academy. But it seemed that Yoruichi demanded something of them both that no one at the Academy seemed to care about: perfection. It wasn't just knowing the moves that Yoruichi wanted of them—she wanted them to be able to make a fist and punch a target off instinct, and perfectly.

"Now, how do you make a fist?" Yoruichi snatched the water bottles back out of their hands before either one of them could get a good enough draft at them. Sighing in resignation, both Katsue and Ichigo curled both their hands into tight fists. Fingers in, thumbs lying across the second joints. Yoruichi nodded. "And what do you punch with?"

"First two knuckles," Ichigo and Katsue grumbled in chorus.

"And what did we learn about your little kitty claws, Nanashi?"

Sighing again, Katsue unfurled her fists and looked at her equally bloody palms. She had known better when she was in the academy and the Eleventh Squad, but her time in the Fourth had severely cramped her fighter's instincts. "Cut 'em," she sighed again as she stared at four crescent-shaped gouges on each of her palms. Her fingernails had cut deep after so many repeated punches, and Yoruichi refused to let her cut them in the middle of training. It was to make sure the lesson stuck permanently, the woman had told her. "How the hell am I supposed to fight with my bankai, then?" she snapped irritably, suddenly glaring hatred at the golden-eyed woman.

Yoruichi simply smiled kindly and patted both of Katsue's hands. "You learn the basics first, kitten. Open-hand fighting techniques come later. When you return to Sereitei, Soi Fong will resume your training wherever we leave off. Until then, get back to work."

Both Katsue and Ichigo groaned and climbed ever so slowly to their feet. Ichigo gave her a rather dirty look as he shuffled reluctantly towards the towering cliff face they had both been practicing at. Without another word, he slipped into the proper fighting stance and launched a heavy-handed punch straight at the sheer rock face. Katsue winced as bare fist met rough rock, and fell in beside him.

"Ichigo," she started softly even as she fell into her own stance, fists at the ready, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Ichigo grunted as his left fist slammed into the rock.

Frowning, Katsue stared at the little depression in the rock from where her own fists had been striking repeatedly all day. Without another thought, she struck, feeling a sharp sting run up the length of her arm from the wounds on her knuckles. Even her palm tingled in irritation as her nails dug into her soft flesh with the impact. "For the cheap shot at your back," she gritted between her teeth as she struck with the opposite fist. Back and forth, back and forth, they both continued to punch at the rock for a few moments.

"Don't be," Ichigo growled in reply. "Thanks for not ripping out my spinal chord, though."

"I can't tell if you're being light hearted or resentful," she huffed and punched again.

"More sarcastic I guess," he huffed back. "Don't worry about it, okay? You had no idea what you were doing, and I sure as hell ain't carrying a grudge against you or whatever."

Frowning, Katsue watched as a small piece of rock lodged itself into her fist after another punch. She paused for the briefest moment to pick it out, before resuming the drill. "Well I feel like hell about it," she muttered. "You have no idea how crappy I feel about losing myself and almost killing you. Do you have any idea how scary the simple concept of not being in control of yourself is?"

Ichigo barked out a short battle cry with his next punch, and a resounding crack sounded from the rock. "Yeah, I bloody do," he spat as a large chunk broke away from the cliff face. They both watched as it landed at Ichigo's feet. "You think you're the only one that has issues controlling their zanpakutou? Snap out of it and look around. Renji is still trying to master controlling his own bankai; Rukia is just now relearning how to use all her powers after being completely unable to touch them for months on end; Zaraki doesn't even know the name of _his _zanpakutou!"

Frowning, Katsue turned to watch Ichigo as he lashed out at the cliff face again. This time his reiatsu flared up as he did, and a crack spread up the rock upon impact of his blow. "Ichigo?"

"I black out sometimes," he spoke quietly under his breath, his head hung low as he glared at the ground. "When I fight. I black out and I wake up watching myself fighting. Only it's not me fighting, it's some other asshole that looks like me, is using my body, _my_ zanpakutou. At first I'm completely helpless and then I'm fighting to the death with this guy to get control of my body back."

"Ichigo—"

"So don't think you're the only one with control issues," he grumbled and cast her a sidelong look. "Is that how it's like for you?"

Katsue's jaw was dropped open, her eyes wide as she gaped at Ichigo. Slowly, she shook her head before clamping her mouth shut. "I just black out entirely," she replied softly. "Ichigo, that sounds like something different—"

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone, Katsue," he grumbled before redirecting his attention back onto the cliff wall.

"But Ichigo, this could be really dangerous! I mean what if you lose it like I do? You're stronger than me; I don't think any of us could rein you in! One of the captains would have to—"

"Please, Katsue," Ichigo looked at her one last time, his eyes soft and full of a pained sorrow. "I'll deal with this on my own. I gotta learn to control it."

"Is it Zangetsu that takes over…?"

He shook his head quietly in denial.

Quietly, Katsue turned back to her particular section of the cliff face and resumed her own practice. "Urahara-sama says that I have a trigger that sets it off," she whispered quietly before slamming a fist into the rock. "He told me that until I learn how to control my zanpakutou that I should try to avoid my trigger. Which you can imagine is quite difficult, considering that my trigger is this ridiculous need to protect people."

Ichigo snorted wryly.

"You aside, of course," Katsue grinned. "I hope I left a scar."

He chuckled quietly. "My ridiculous need to protect people gets me in trouble. Like raiding Sereitei for instance."

"So you know it's not that," she grunted as another punch connected solidly with the cliff. "When is the last time it happened?"

Ichigo was quiet for a moment, the only sound between them the sound of their fists meeting rock, the shifting of their shihakusho with their movements, and their quiet exhalations of breath with every impact. It was oddly soothing, Katsue thought, to just focus on her breathing as her body trained itself. "You heard about that Bounto thing?"

She nodded solemnly. "Of course. All of Soul Society knows of it."

"I was fighting with them, and I thought I was gonna die," Ichigo was scowling now as he worked. "I was utterly convinced I wouldn't win. I was getting my ass handed to me, and no matter what I did nothing seemed to be working. And just when I thought the final blow was gonna land…he took over and whooped the living day lights out of the Bounto."

"Sounds like a good thing," Katsue smirked at him, earning herself another glare from the orange-haired Shinigami.

"The first time I met the guy was when I was fighting Zaraki," he grumbled. "I thought I was dying again and Zangetsu showed up and all this shit happened, and that guy was there."

"Well there's your trigger," frowning, Katsue lashed out at the cliff. A satisfying cracking sound emanated from where her fist landed. "Death scares."

"And I can't really avoid that kind of thing," he snorted derisively.

"So we're both fucked."

"Sounds like it."

**XXXX**

Nothing gave away the fact that Kuchiki Byakuya was frowning. To an outsider, he was perfectly calm, cool, and collected. But Abarai Renji knew better—he could just barely make out the tightness at the corners of his captain's mouth, and knew them to be the only sign of the man's disapproval. He was sitting patiently at a low, traditional style-table, his legs folded up neatly underneath him and his hands resting in his lap. Across from him lounged Zaraki Kenpachi and was busy feigning sleep.

"Quit the act, Zaraki," Captain Kuchiki's voice was quiet and still managed to hold a deadly threat to it.

Zaraki's eyes cracked open just barely, before the mammoth of a man arched into a joint-popping stretch. He let out a huge yawn, before settling back into his customary napping position: head propped up on one hand and leaning against his leg. "The hell do you want?" he growled.

With a flippant gesture to Renji, Captain Kuchiki held out an empty and expecting hand. Renji didn't even hesitate to go to his captain's side and deposit the bundle of scrolls that he had been temporarily in charge of. "High Commander Yamamoto has signed official orders to place you under house arrest at Urahara Kisuke's shop," Captain Kuchiki began politely as he opened one of the scrolls, a big fancy affair on papyrus paper and marked with a slew of stamps and wax seals, and deposited it on the table in front of Zaraki.

"Nothin' new," Zaraki scowled at the offending parchment even as Yumichika reached from his seat to the left of his captain and took it. "You went all the way to Sereitei just to get an official parchment sayin' what you already told me?"

Renji sighed inwardly as he caught a nerve tick in Captain Kuchiki's forehead, before the man unraveled another scroll. "I thought you would also appreciate the knowledge that your hearing has begun among the remaining captains. We will come to a decision on your case within the week, as well as what disciplinary actions will be undertaken."

"For gods' sake, Kuchiki," Zaraki snarled and slammed a fist down on the table as Captain Kuchiki deposited the next fancy scroll. "We all know how the hell this is gonna turn out, so can I just bloody go home and take care of that little riot of yours?"

Captain Kuchiki sniffed before unraveling another scroll and looking over it. "As much as I would enjoy you coming back to Sereitei and ending the riots before a compromise could be reached, and therefore depriving you of your leverage in your case, I'm afraid protocol must be followed."

"He has a point, Captain," Yumichika spoke quietly as he leaned over to take the second scroll. He was quietly browsing over them both as his captain shot him a yellow-eyed glare, and was able to successfully pretend that he didn't notice it.

"I also have for you a bill from Captain Hitsugaya," Captain Kuchiki went on, depositing another scroll on the table.

"What the hell for?" Zaraki snarled.

Yumichika sighed before he grabbed that scroll, too, and gave it a cursory glance. "Costs of care for Vice Captain Yachiru," he answered his captain's question before going back to the official-looking documents.

Sighing, Zaraki rolled his eyes and watched in silence as the Kuchiki bastard laid out another unrolled scroll on the table. This one, he was slightly mortified to see, had a seal from the Shinigami Women's Association on it. "The hell is this one for?"

"A reminder to Officer Nanashi," Captain Kuchiki replied. "Really, can you not read?"

Zaraki replied with a simple scowl.

With a soft sigh, Kuchiki Byakuya went on to explain. "I am told it is a reminder not to forget to send a package back containing…what was the term Vice Captain Kusajishi used, Abarai?"

"Lunch Jerry," Renji coughed into his hand as a bright red blush colored his cheeks.

"Yes, Lunch Jerry," at that Captain Kuchiki returned his attention onto the scowling Eleventh Squad captain sitting in front of him. He quirked a delicately-shaped eyebrow, "Apparently she is in charge of procuring supplies for their Christmas party fundraiser. A Lunch Jerry sale?"

"Lingerie," Zaraki grinned wickedly, and felt an immense wave of pleasure ripple through his entire being at the mildly surprised look that momentarily crossed Captain Kuchiki's face. The captain was quick to cover it up, though, as he unrolled several more scrolls and placed them on the table.

"And these are from Captain Unohana," he said in a short, terse tone. "Captains Ukitake and Kyouraku aided her in researching Officer Nanashi's zanpakutou. They are quite certain that it will aid in her training."

Those Zaraki grabbed himself, much to Yumichika's dismay. With a curt nod in place of a thank you, Zaraki shoved the parchments into the folds of his Shihakusho. "What the hell else do you want?"

"I'll be sure to pass your appreciation on to Captain Unohana," Kuchiki replied flatly as he folded his hands back in his lap. "And I do not want anything. I am here simply to give you these papers, and yet you still insist I want something. That is a very curious thing."

"You don't do shit without there being benefit to you, Kuchiki," Zaraki snarled, his own massive hands curling into fists. "So what the hell is it so we can just get this shit over with?"

"I have told you once, and I will tell you one more time, Zaraki, so listen closely," Kuchiki was almost frowning as he stared at the towering captain in front of him. "You getting what you want, for once, also benefits me. I have no hidden agenda."

"Then if you don't bloody mind," Zaraki snarled and rose slowly to his feet, making sure to stretch out to his full towering height as he glared down at Captain Kuchiki. The man simply returned his glare with a cold one of his own, where he still sat on the floor. "I'm gonna go finish my nap where the flies aren't buzzin' as loud."

"Don't you wish to know how Vice Captain Kusajishi is doing?" Kuchiki drawled lazily, before he calmly examined the nails on one hand. There was a short silence, before Zaraki growled and sat right back down.

"Son of a bitch," he swore, one hand resting on his zanpakutou.

Captain Kuchiki gestured to Renji once again, and he rushed forward to place a small parcel in his captain's extended hand. "She sends you these," the captain replied. "Vice Captain Matsumoto is taking care of her, and she seems to be well. Now, I will take my leave."

Snarling, Zaraki snatched the small cloth-wrapped bundle from the table as Captain Kuchiki rose elegantly to his feet. The man didn't even bow as he shamelessly turned his back to Zaraki, and marched right past his vice captain and out of the room. "That fuck did that on purpose," he growled.

"Those should be lemon drops," Yumichika murmured absently. He was just finally getting around to browsing the bill that Captain Hitsugaya had sent their way.

"Doesn't she have her own damn salary? Why the hell is that albino runt payin' for all her shit?" Zaraki grumbled as he unwrapped the small parcel. Sure enough, Yachiru had sent him some of his favorite candy, as well as an odd-looking flowery thing that he assumed was for Katsue.

"Apparently she splurged on a sweets binge," Yumichika proclaimed elegantly and showed the small note at the bottom of the bill to his captain. "It seems Matsumoto has been consoling her with ice cream and candy for the past few days."

Zaraki sighed and popped a small lemon drop into his mouth. He didn't even hesitate to crush the stupid thing between his teeth as he snatched the bill from Yumichika's hands. He glowered at it, not really reading it. "Wonder what the hell she's been doin' to burn off all that sugar-induced energy then."

Yumichika simply shrugged. "I would assume egging the rioters on."

"Hope so," Zaraki grinned before popping another candy into his mouth.

* * *

A nice bonding moment for Ichigo and Katsue, I suppose. Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon.

Thank you everyone for your continued support and encouragement, and for all your kind feedback. I really appreciate it! It's nice knowing there's people out there that like reading what I write for pure amusement. =)


	19. Chapter 19

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 19/?  
Rating: NC-17ish? Not that bad but definitely not PG.  
Warnings: Coarse language, sexual situation~  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. In Japan, this would be considered as a great tribute to his sucess and genius. In America, not so much. :(  
A/N: What's this, two updates in just as many days? After such a long dry period? Holy crap, Minishini is starting to get back into the swing of things!

* * *

Katsue quirked an eyebrow and stared at the massive hand that Zaraki was gesturing to her with. He wasn't even looking at her from where he sat, hunched over a small table with a load of scrolls in front of him. "C'mere," he rumbled when she didn't immediately go to his side.

"Hold on, I'm enjoying my first time actually seeing you do paperwork," she purred in response and leaned against the door frame to their little room.

"It ain't paperwork," he grunted, and gestured one last time. "Now get your ass over here. You've been down in that basement with Kurosaki all damn day."

She tilted her head to the side, a coy smile turning her lips. "You say that as if you were jealous."

"Just get your ass over here," was his rumbled reply, before he picked up one of the scrolls and waved it vigorously in her general direction. He still had yet to look up. "Got somethin' you'd probably be interested in."

"And what, pray tell, is that?"

Finally, his yellow eyes slid away from the scrolls to give her a very generous look that lingered on her hips before meeting her own eyes. Zaraki grinned suddenly as he took in her condition; she looked like an absolute mess. Her shihakusho was filthy, the white perfection of her kimono dirtied by red dust and stained with drying blood. Her lean arms were crossed most provocatively under her breasts where Zaraki could perfectly see the abrasions and bruises coating both of her arms, as well as the bloodied knuckles of one hand. She was a sporting a brilliant black eye and a busted lip, and her hair had torn loose from her usual tight bun. "And so it begins. The paper pushin' medic gets her paws dirty."

She rolled her eyes and pushed off of the door frame, her round hips swaying as she made her way across the room to a small dresser where she kept her clean changes of clothes. Kurosaki had been thoughtful enough to bring her a bag of clothes from her little room above the clinic when it had been apparent that she would be staying at Urahara's as long as Zaraki was there. "I'm going to go take a shower," she purred and bent over ever so slowly as she reached for one of the drawers. She grinned to herself as she sifted through it, ever aware of Zaraki's burning gaze on her backside and the low rumbling that started deep in his chest.

When she turned around, though, he was scowling fiercely at her with one hand fisted around a scroll. With a huge sigh he relaxed his grip and placed the scroll back on the table to smooth out its wrinkles. He gave her a sidelong look reminiscent of a small boy that had to give his puppy away. "As much as I would enjoy defiling your shower," he rumbled grumpily, "I think I should make sure you look at these before I keep you busy for the rest of the evening and well in to the night. You'd get mad at me if I didn't."

"It can wait until tomorrow," purring, she leaned back against the dresser and tilted her head to the side. Zaraki stared as her long auburn hair fell back over one shoulder, exposing the delicate skin of her neck. His eyes couldn't help but follow the trail of naked skin down to the folds of her shihakusho, where he caught sight of the barest hint of cleavage.

Snarling, Zaraki scrubbed a hand over his face and shoved his other hand out to her, one of the scrolls back in his grasp. "Just look at the damned things. And get your tight little ass over here."

Pouting, Katsue glared at him and pushed off the dresser. She practically dragged her feet as she walked towards him. "I can't believe you of all people would rather do paperwork than have some fun."

"It ain't paperwork," he snarled as she snatched the roll from his hand. He lurched forward quickly, both of his massive arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her down on his lap. She didn't even squeal, he was disappointed to find, and simply sat there even as he placed a hot kiss to her neck. "Aw hell, you're mad."

"I hope I get blood all over your papers," she sniffed and fought to ignore the fact that Zaraki was tugging her butt snuggly against his crotch. One thing was for sure—she smiled slightly as he showered her neck with kisses and gentle bites—he was as hard as a rock.

And then she read the first couple lines of the scroll.

"Oh, shit," she gasped and shrugged his wandering mouth off her neck. He let out a massive sigh as she hunched over his table and intently focused on the scroll he had given her.

"Told you," he grumbled and leaned back on his hands. He sighed again and stared at his zanpakutou where it leaned against the nearby wall. It had been interesting as hell he had to admit, reading about the history of Katsue's sword. It made him wonder what his was.

"Look! Only four people have ever wielded Mouko Shuurajo, and the first was before the Thirteen Protection Squads were even founded!" Katsue slapped at his knee in excitement, effectively redirecting his attention back on to her. Suddenly she looked over her shoulder at him, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Why do you think that is?"

He shrugged. "What're you, one-fifty, two hundred years old?"

She frowned at him. "Three-fifteen."

"Well I'm just robbin' the cradle, aren't I?" he grinned before nodding towards the scroll. "If they weren't dumbasses they probably lived around six hundred each. That'd put the first wielder around the time Yamamoto started founding the Shinigami Academy and the Protection Squads."

She shoved the scroll in his face. "It's been five hundred years since the last one. I didn't find Mouko Shuurajo till I was in my one-fifties."

"Well hell I don't know woman," Zaraki growled and snatched the paper from out of his face. "Is it really that damn important?"

"I guess not," but she was still frowning as he handed the scroll back to her. She read a bit more of it before she looked back up at him, her brows furrowed and an odd frown on her delicate face. "What do you think?" she asked quietly.

With a heavy sigh, Zaraki gently tucked a strand of her loose hair behind one of her little ears. "I said it before. I think you ought to transfer to my squad," he rumbled quietly as she shifted on his lap until she was sitting sideways. She let out her own soft sigh as she settled against him, tucking her head underneath his strong jaw. "I know you want to keep tellin' yourself that you're a medic and all that shit, Katsue, but that ain't all you are."

"I don't want to go back to who I was," her voice was soft, frail, and waivered in a way that had Zaraki wrapping a protective arm around her. One of her small, bloodied hands fisted in the folds of his kimono as she tried pressing closer to him. "I was so angry and…and…I don't want to go back to that, Kenpachi."

"Shit, Katsue, that ain't what I'm sayin'. And going back to bein' a fighter doesn't mean you'll go back to bein' an angry bitch or whatever," he rumbled against her head. "Your zanpakutou was meant to be fightin'. It's not like Unohana's where even its bankai heals. Its shikai form has teeth; its bankai has claws. Everyone that's ever wielded it has been a front line warrior."

"But I'm a medic now," she squeaked and hid her face against his chest.

Zaraki swore, before he gently pried her off of him. With both of his massive hands on her slender shoulders, he pushed her away until he could stare at her. He was alarmed to see the tracks of tears on her cheeks as she quickly looked away from him. "For the love of—look, I ain't exactly the person to be talkin' about how zanpakutou work and shit. Hell, mine hates me," he nodded towards his zanpakutou. "But the damned things are supposed to be a reflection of their wielders. They're…how the hell did that creepy Kurotsuchi bastard put it…the corporeal manifestations of our personalities."

She finally looked up at him, one of her eyebrows turned up questionably. He knew she was more puzzled with the fact that he used two of those big ass words that Kurotsuchi liked to throw around more than by what he was trying to say.

Snarling his frustration, Zaraki pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "That runt Hitsugaya's is a fuckin' ice dragon, and he's a cold little bastard trying to play the solitary hero all the damn time. Kuchiki's is a god damn _cherry blossom_ that cuts the hell out of people, and he's a two-faced prick always romping around toting his nobility with a pretty face, then tearing up people he dislikes with the ugly face. And Kurosaki's is always in its shikai state 'cause the guy can't control his damn reiatsu. You feelin' me?"

She nodded slowly.

He shot a quick glare at his own zanpakutou. "Good, 'cause mine is just an old rusted piece of shit and I don't really know what that has to say about me." She stifled her laughter against one of her hands before he turned his yellow eyes back on to her. "The point is you're ignorin' and denyin' a part of who you are. You're tryin' to be somethin' you're not, Katsue."

That put a frown back on her face. "But I like being a medic, Zaraki."

"And you like fightin', right?"

"Well, yes," her frown turned into a scowl.

"Then just do both. Be like those warrior priests. You're too busy tryin' to follow in Unohana's footsteps to notice that isn't what you really bloody want. That's what your damn zanpakutou is tryin' to tell you, if you ask me," he huffed. "Who the hell said you had to be one hundred percent a healer or one hundred percent a fighter? Just do whatever the hell makes you and that damn sword happy."

Anger spiked across Katsue's face as she gently hit his hard muscled chest. "And yet you tell me to give up my position in the Fourth and become a fighter in the Eleventh?"

He snarled again. "I'm just sayin' that you need to get your ass back in the fight, Katsue. Lead your little medic squad if you really enjoy doin' that, but don't be so damn hesitant to join in the fray every once in a while. And not just because you gotta protect your field camp from being ransacked by a hollow or some shit. Get in there and do some stabbin' before you're _forced_ to do it."

She opened her mouth to argue, only to have him clamp a broad hand over it.

"Don't get pissed at me, I'm givin' you the blunt truth and you should come to expect that from me. You read the damn scroll!" he hissed and snatched the thick parchment off the table behind her, and waved it by her head. "Your zanpakutou was meant to cut heads off hollows. At one point you used it for that purpose, and sure it was a shitty time in your life but get the fuck over it, Katsue. Those wounds are bloody healed thanks to Unohana's help. Forget who you once were, and who Unohana tried to make you." He prodded her in the chest with a long finger. "As corny as it sounds, be your damn self."

Katsue yanked his hand off from over her mouth. "So what you're saying is that I should stop being who Unohana wants me to be, and start being who _you_ want me to be?" she spat angrily.

Zaraki growled in frustration. "I want you to be you!" he snarled between gritted teeth. "Your _zanpakutou_ wants you to be you!" at that, he grabbed the hilt of her sword and jiggled it at her hip, before drawing the blade in one smooth motion. "I may not be able to hear my own zanpakutou and what it's tryin' to tell me, Katsue, but yours is practically screamin' it to the world."

"Because you're too damn thick headed to just listen," she snapped irritably before snatching her bare sword from him. "You do whatever the hell you want no matter what anyone else says."

"I like that about myself," he growled slowly, yellow eyes flashing. "And I listen to you. Don't you remember me stayin' away from your clinic when you told me to, even though my arm was busted and I lost all that blood?"

Katsue let out a huge sigh and her shoulders slumped as suddenly all the angry fight went out of her. With a gentle touch she placed her zanpakutou on the floor beside them, before leaning back against Zaraki's broad chest. They were both quiet as she wrapped her arms around his thick neck, her hands burying into his hair. It had taken him hours to get his hair back into its normal hair style that morning, and here he was letting her take all his little bells out and brush his hair down until it hung loose around his face. "I do, too," she muttered finally, her face burying against his neck.

"You listen to you? Or you like my mule-head? Or you remember, too?" he rumbled, still irritated.

She sighed again. "The second," she murmured against his warm skin. "I like your zanpakutou," she whispered, this time in his ear.

Zaraki scowled as a shiver wracked down his spine.

"I think it says a lot about you both," her voice was breathy as she shifted in his lap again, this time so she could straddle his waist. "A lot about how strong you are…to be a captain with what you have."

He rumbled absently.

"Kenpachi?" she was frowning when she pulled away from him, her small hands cupping both sides of his face. He was scowling, yellow eyes burning dully.

"You keep ignoring your zanpakutou and you'll end up like me," he grunted.

Katsue felt her heart break a little bit as her and Zaraki simply stared at each other. "That really bothered you, didn't it?"

He grunted again.

"You were right," she replied confidently and cast a quick glance at his zanpakutou. "About them being a reflection of who we are. Your zanpakutou looks old, rusted and dull. And you're an old ass with rough edges."

His scowl deepened.

"You don't know its name, and it doesn't know yours," she went on, even as his hands latched onto her hips and tried to gently dislodge her from her perch. "And neither one of you give a shit," she said firmly, squishing his cheeks a little bit in her hands. "People underestimate you both, and in reality you're strong enough to kick the crap out of anyone in Sereitei without having to release your zanpakutou, and it's strong enough to keep up with you. People don't expect a lot out of you, Kenpachi," she whispered heatedly. "They don't expect a lot out of your zanpakutou. And you prove to them all time and time again that you're a force to be reckoned with, that you're not just a grumpy old man," by now she was smiling and he was rumbling in mock irritation. But she had noticed his hands stopped trying to push her away and were instead stroking her hips, and his mouth was slowly turning up towards hers. "You're Zaraki Kenpachi."

"I am," he rumbled and grinned slowly as her lips moved towards his.

"And right now, Zaraki Kenpachi has all of Sereitei in an uproar," she breathed against his lips, and he stole a hungry kiss. "And over a _woman_," she frowned suddenly.

"Hell, I didn't even expect that one," he didn't notice her frown or her sudden silence; he was too busy tugging her obi loose.

"Kenpachi…"

"Hm?" his mouth was on her neck and doing evil things, all while his hands snuck into the warm confines of her kimono. She gasped and arched as he trailed his massive paws every so lightly against her sides.

"You…you threw everything away for me."

"It'll all fix itself," he replied absently against her throat. "Imma kill Kurosaki for givin' you a black eye."

"I gave myself a black eye," she mumbled.

"How the hell did you manage that?"

"Kenpachi, why would you do all of this?" she whimpered even as his teeth nipped gently at her jaw and his hands pushed her kimono off her slender shoulders.

"Because you turned me on," he rumbled.

"I meant, why would you…you attacked High Commander Yamamoto and almost killed all those Special Ops. And you resigned! How…how could you do that just because of me?" Zaraki froze suddenly in his machinations as he felt a tremble go through Katsue's body. He looked up from where he was preoccupying himself with her troublesome bra, only to find tears in her eyes again.

With a huge sigh, he yanked her head towards his for a hot kiss. "Don't think about it," he murmured against her lips when she wrapped her arms back around his neck.

"Why would you give all of that up?" she sobbed quietly against his lips, before kissing him over and over again.

"Because," he grunted between one kiss and the next, "He. Pissed. Me. Off. You're. Mine and. He fucked. With you."

She stopped suddenly and stared at him, her stormy gray eyes wide in incomprehension and surprise. Then she heard her pants ripping apart and jumped, startled. She looked down to find Zaraki's large hands meticulously tearing her hakama apart and throwing the mutilated cloth away.

"I like you, you putz," he growled, a broad grin on his sharp angled face. His hands worked quickly to pull off his own obi and layers of kimono. "You're mine, and I ain't lettin' anyone take you away so easily." He cupped her cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears in one of her eyes. And then he was gently leaning her back, until his free arm could swipe the scrolls off his low table and he could lay her out on the now clean surface. "Think we can break this thing?" he purred and absently pushed his hakama down his hips.

Katsue blushed violently as she looked up at him, still too stunned to say much of anything. She was all too aware of his huge naked body, of his muscles rippling with pent up tension as he ran his hot hands over every inch of her body. She could hear his breathing coming rougher as he touched the lace of her panties, see his eyes blazing hotter as he slowly dragged them down her hips.

"Don't bloody cry," he grumbled and tore the thin cloth off past her slender ankles. His lips touched ever so gently to the inside of her calf before he started kissing his way up one of her legs, his giant of a body nudging between them ever so slowly. "I didn't mean to make you cry," he breathed against the inside of her thigh as he looked up at her, his eyes blazing yellow fire.

"Kenpachi?" she asked breathlessly and wiped at her eyes.

"Yeah?" he kissed her hip, and she shivered at the feel of his rough lips against her skin. His tongue ran lazily upwards until he nipped at the sensitive skin around her belly button. "I hate these damn things," he rumbled when he reached her bra, and ever so slowly pulled both the straps down her shoulders.

"Don't rip this one…it's my favorite," she gasped as his mouth pressed down on her soft skin and his mammoth hands tugged her bra down her lean body, until her breasts were bare and he could shamelessly grope them both. "Kenpachi…"

He grunted and bit down on her collar bone.

"I think I'm in love with you," she whispered ever so quietly, her small hands fisted at her side despite the over whelming urge to touch him.

Zaraki paused, his entire body going still as he slowly looked at her. His eyes were absolutely on fire, she thought as he stared at her. Panic gripped her chest as the moment stretched on, and she felt her heart sink suddenly into the pit of her stomach. And then his whole body surged suddenly, his hips arching into hers as he pushed into the burning core of her body. She gasped and arched on the table, her fists hitting his chest in a futile effort. She looked away from him as he thrust into her, his mouth slowly dipping back down to her neck.

She tried to blink away the tears of rejection she felt stinging in her eyes even as her body traitorously accepted every hard inch of Zaraki's body. She shivered when his teeth nipped at her earlobe, and his voice rumbled in her ear. "Good," he said ever so quietly, "'cause I feel the same about you."

"You ass," she gasped and latched both of her hands on to his ears, gently yanking his head back so that she could place a harsh kiss against his lips. "Say it," she gasped against his mouth.

She could feel his mouth turn down into a scowl as he snarled those three little words at her. A loud ripping sound followed, and she couldn't help but laugh as he threw away her bra. "I really hate those things," he grumbled, a little bit of a blush coloring his cheeks before he crushed his lips back to hers.

* * *

OMG HE SAID IT! Brb having a fan girl moment over my own fic.

Okay I have to say that I really dislike the full version of "Number One" with Malicious Gravy on the Bleach sound track. He has such a potty mouth that it ruins the song, if you ask me. D: I mean Ichigo is like that innocent pure badass, his theme song shouldn't be littered with curse words. :


	20. Chapter 20

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 20/?  
Rating: PG-13!  
Warnings: Coarse language, sexual innuendo (big surprise)  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. In Japan, this would be considered as a great tribute to his sucess and genius. In America, not so much. :(  
A/N: Please bare with me while I struggle through writer's block and transitioning to the next part of the story. D: I struggled with this one, so it's short. But it amused me, and randomly brought in Sado, Uryuu, and Tatsuki (who I think needs to be brought back into the main story in the anime/manga, she's a neat character). This chapter is more of a boys' bonding time.

* * *

With a huge sigh, Zaraki Kenpachi sank onto an over stuffed sofa at the front of the store. He ignored the bewildered looks that the young women milling about the store were tossing in his general direction. He had been receiving similar looks all damned day, ever since he stepped foot outside of Urahara's little shop. First it had been the mail man, then the policeman on the corner, and every single person he had strolled past. It was putting him in a piss poor mood, and playing Katsue's pack mule for the day wasn't helping.

He growled under his breath and propped his feet up on the low coffee table in front of him. He stared at the black boots—shit kickers, Urahara had called them. He liked them, he decided as he wiggled his toes in their comfy confines. They had pieces of molded metal in the toes and heels, and along the instep of his boots. "They always take this damn long?" he grumbled as Kurosaki sank onto the sofa beside him.

The orange haired man gave him a sidelong look before sighing himself. "Yep," he replied simply, before putting his own feet up on the table beside Zaraki's. He was only wearing a plain pair of shoes that Zaraki had learned were called "sneakers". There was nothing sneaky about them, he thought; they should have been named "squeakers", after the sound they made on tile flooring.

Zaraki snorted and stared at the pair of pants Urahara had given him to wear over his gigai. The thick faded blue fabric wasn't as comfortable as his hakama, but he did have to admit that he liked them. And Katsue had liked them, too; she had made some aloof comment about how she liked how his ass looked in them, or some such. But if she liked the jeans, she liked the tight black shirt he wore even more. He grinned slowly and propped his arms up along the back edge of the sofa as he watched Katsue, Orihime, and Rukia wander through the store they had stopped in. Katsue just couldn't seem to stop stealing quick glances at him, and he had noticed how her eyes lingered on the black fabric stretching taught over the broad planes of his chest. Now he understood why Urahara had told him to leave the much looser white shirt he wore over it unbuttoned.

"I was out once with just Rukia and Orihime for eight hours," Ichigo continued as he crossed his muscled arms over his chest. He was scowling as he watched the three girls converge on a rack of dainty swim suits. Blushing, he looked away when Rukia picked out a rather skimpy looking one. "Shopping is a girl's favorite past time."

"I tell ya what," Zaraki rumbled with a satisfied purr as Rukia held the skimpy little thing up to Katsue, "if they're gonna be buyin' shit like that, it's gonna become one of mine, too."

Ichigo shot him a glare.

"Is that a blush I see?" Zaraki roared with laughter as Ichigo looked away hurriedly, his glare deepening into a scowl. "There's nothin' wrong with appreciatin' a woman's body, Kurosaki, especially if they don't mind showin' it off to you."

"It's rude," Ichigo replied gruffly.

"It's rude not to appreciate it!" Zaraki laughed again. "There're two reasons women buy things like that, Kurosaki. One, to either make themselves feel more confident; or two, to impress a man they have an eye for. In either case you're only doin' 'em a favor by starin' or, at the very least, complimenting 'em."

"And what about when they get mad?" Ichigo grumbled.

"Let 'em. Still flatters them knowin' a guy thought they were worth gawking at. It just means they don't like you," Zaraki grinned and nudged Kurosaki in the shoulder. "Don't be a prude."

Blushing, Ichigo frowned as he let his eyes wander back onto the troublesome trio. Katsue was trying to convince Orihime to try on a little yellow and orange-striped bikini while Orihime was depositing a white one in Rukia's hands. "We should take them to the beach," he said after a long moment's silence between him and Zaraki.

Zaraki clapped him on the shoulder, hard enough to make him cough. "Now that's puttin' your brain to use."

"I don't mean it like that!" Ichigo snapped, a nerve ticking in his forehead. "I mean that Rukia and Katsue haven't been to the beach before, have they?"

Zaraki shrugged. "Hell if I know."

"Well they haven't been to one here in the living world," Ichigo grumbled. "It could be like a little vacation, you know? What with all the shit going on lately, I bet they would enjoy it."

Grinning, Zaraki nudged him again. "And you too, eh?"

"Will you stop it!"

"I'm sure they would like it," rumbling, Zaraki settled back into the sofa comfortably. All three of the girls had discarded their respective bikinis, and were in the process of picking out entirely new ones. Katsue was smiling and laughing easily as they went from one rack to the next, sifting through various sizes and holding them up to each other. He couldn't help but grin himself as he watched her, perfectly calm and relaxed with people he was sure she called friends. She looked beautiful, black eye and all. "You sure have made Soul Society exciting lately, that's for sure."

Frowning, Ichigo looked at him sideways. "I'm not the one that got the Eleventh Squad to riot," he accused.

Zaraki shrugged. "I didn't have shit to do with any of that. You, on the other hand, broke into Sereitei and then brought those Bounto to our door step. I think you got me topped, kid."

"It ain't my damn fault."

"Not sayin' it is," Zaraki tossed him another toothy grin. "It was gettin' boring as hell there. You need to find your next big adventure soon before it gets boring again. I'm in desperate need of some play time, unless you finally wanna have that rematch you owe me?"

Ichigo's face suddenly went pale as he frowned at Zaraki. "That's not happenin' any time soon."

Chuckling, Zaraki crossed his arms over his chest and grinned as Katsue's eyes lingered on his taught pecs for a moment. She had to shake her head, this time, before she was able to redirect her attention back on the task at hand.

**XXXX**

Zaraki was grinning the biggest shit eating grin Ichigo had ever seen, bigger even than that manic grin he got when Zaraki was kicking Ichigo's ass halfway to Monday during their first encounter. And it was readily apparent that the reason was Katsue and her skimpy little maroon bikini. With a huge sigh, Ichigo rolled his eyes and went back to skimming over the manga magazine he had bought on their way to the beach.

"You're all a bunch of prudes," Zaraki cackled from where he was sprawled out on a beach blanket, clad in nothing but the black swim trunks Katsue had bought for him the moment Ichigo had brought up going to the beach. "You have a group of women running about, splashing in the water, hardly wearing _anything_ at all, and you're reading _books_?"

Uryuu sniffed from where he sat in a beach chair, and simply flipped a page in his sewing magazine. Sado, like Ichigo, blushed and pretended to be focusing on his own manga.

"You've got to be shittin' me. What, are you all virgins or some shit?" Zaraki barked with laughter at the looks the three of them sent his way. "That's a blatant fucking yes. What're you, eunuchs?"

"Just because we're not shamelessly staring at women in bathing suits does not mean we are castrated, Captain Zaraki," Uryuu replied with another sniff. "We have more respect for a woman than that."

"Load of shit," Zaraki barked and gestured towards the girls. He had been flustered at first when he saw that the three of them ended up buying the first three pairs of bikinis they had been looking at, especially after they spent another hour and a half in that store looking at other ones. But now he sure as hell wasn't going to be complaining any time soon. If Katsue's swimsuit had any less cloth to it, he would have pinned her to the sand a long time ago and screwed her in front of everyone on the beach. "You're reading that manga shit when you got the real thing in front of you."

Ichigo coughed and flipped another page.

Frustrated, Zaraki lurched over to the side and grabbed the magazine from him. As Ichigo was sitting up to yell at him angrily, Zaraki latched his massive paws on either side of his head and forced him to look up. He fell silent as he stared, wide eyed and red cheeked, as Rukia and Orihime played Katsue and Tatsuki in a game of water volleyball. His eyes sure as hell weren't watching the ball, though; he was watching the four girls bounce around in waist-deep water.

"Gods damn it, Zaraki!" he bellowed and wrenched free from his hands. Zaraki was rumbling with laughter as he climbed to his feet.

"Have it your way," he chuckled and stalked straight towards the water. He was absolutely shameless as he waded in past the breaking waves, and grabbed first Katsue under one arm and then Orihime under the other. All four girls were screaming as Zaraki stomped about in the water, occasionally dunking one of them under the calm waves.

Ichigo, Sado, and Uryuu frowned as they watched him. The girls were screaming and laughing—even Tatsuki, who was usually the first to get defensive about a guy "abusing" women—while Zaraki tried to wrestle each of them under water for a quick dunk. Finally the four girls finally mounted a counter-attack, and were struggling to bring the towering captain down. Rukia dragged on one arm while Orihime had the other. Tatsuki was perched on Zaraki's massive shoulders and had her arms wrapped around his head as she tried to haul him backwards to knock him off balance. Zaraki made one last attempt to dunk Katsue, and succeeded by picking her up and tossing her back in the water before the girls finally managed to topple him over.

"You've got to be shittin' me," Ichigo grumbled under his breath as he watched Zaraki struggle to regain his footing, only to get mobbed by four laughing girls in skimpy bikinis.

"You bastards are just going to let them drown me!" Zaraki bellowed from the water the one time he managed to stand long enough to yell at them. Katsue tackled his head back under water before he even managed to get the last word out.

Quietly, Sado closed his magazine and stood. "Be right back," he rumbled quietly, before making his own way to the water. It was only a matter of seconds before Ichigo and Uryuu were following—Uryuu tugging his T-shirt off over his head as they made their way to the water. By the time the three of them waded out to the girls and Zaraki, the massive captain had Katsue perched securely on his shoulders while she screeched and tried to fight off the other girls as they tried to drag her back under the water with them.

It was only a matter of moments before each of them had a girl perched on their shoulders—Rukia barking out orders to Ichigo, Orihime squealing with laughter on Sado's broad shoulders, and Uryuu staggering to hold up Tatsuki—while they all attempted to knock each other's passengers into the water. Zaraki and Katsue were winning so far, simply because the Eleventh Squad captain was so much taller than the rest of them.

They froze mid-battle as a massive reiatsu flared from the beach, effectively silencing all their laughter and raucous screams. All eight pairs of eyes stared in open amazement at Kuchiki Byakuya and Abarai Renji from where they stood on the beach—fury emanating off of Byakuya like a furnace while Renji tried in vain to subdue a nosebleed.

"Onii-san!" Rukia screeched and tumbled off of Ichigo's shoulders. She was the first to make it to the beach, her slender arms covering her chest in vain as she looked up at her big brother. Byakuya was absolutely scowling at her, Ichigo was stunned to see. That had to be the most emotion he had ever seen on that man's face.

Byakuya shrugged out of his haori and shoved it on Rukia's shoulders as his scowl turned into a glare aimed at Ichigo. "What were you doing?" his voice held a cold fury as he regarded them.

"We _were_ having fun until you showed up," Tatsuki answered angrily, scowling right back at him. "Who the hell are you?"

All eyes turned on to her—the only human among them that hadn't, up until now, been able to see spirits such as Shinigami. "I am Kuchiki Byakuya," Byakuya snapped in reply. "And who may you be?"

Ichigo clapped a silencing hand over Tatsuki's mouth just as she was about to make a retort. "You need something, Byakuya?"

"He needs swim trunks," Zaraki rumbled irritably and slung an arm over Katsue's shoulder. All of a sudden he wasn't feeling too comfortable with Katsue being clad in only a little bikini, with Byakuya standing only a few mere feet away from her.

"I thought that Captain Zaraki would enjoy the news that he has been found innocent of high treason, but instead I find that you have broken your house arrest and are cavorting in your underclothes on a beach!" Byakuya snapped angrily and tugged his haori closed tighter around Rukia's shoulders. She was blushing furiously and staring at the sand, her body completely dwarfed by Byakuya's huge haori.

With a toothy grin, Zaraki slung his other arm over Orihime's shoulders. "Any time you feel like pullin' that stick out your ass, Byakuya, you're welcome to join us. Abarai can ride on your shoulders."

At that, Renji cleared his throat and glared at them all, too.

"We are still working out the terms of your return," Byakuya snapped and grabbed Rukia's wrist. "Although after this I'm not so certain how long it will take. I hope you enjoy sitting around in the living world doing nothing, Zaraki." And with that, he spun on his heel and walked back towards the Soul Gate he had opened on the beach, dragging Rukia behind him.

Renji scowled and watched as the two Kuchiki's disappeared, the gate closing behind them. Sighing, he glared at the group before him. "You assholes didn't invite me?"

"Well, I guess you can ride on Ichigo's shoulders now," Zaraki chuckled deep in his chest, earning him a glare from both Ichigo and Renji. Katsue was strangely quiet, though, when he guided her back to the beach towels. With the fun killed, the girls were quick to wrap up in beach towels as the guys packed up their little camp.

"By the way," Ichigo grumbled under his breath, blushing profusely. "Those new bathing suits are really cute."

Orihime absolutely beamed at him after she tugged a baggy shirt over her head. "Thank you, Kurosaki-kun! That makes me really happy!"

Tatsuki scowled at and shoved a pair of baggy pants into Orihime's hands. "Get dressed, 'Hime. And Ichigo, keep your pervert eyes to yourself!"

Zaraki chuckled and tucked Katsue back against his side.

* * *

On a side note, make sure to check out my new Bleach story, starring everyone's favorite asshole: Byakuya! It's called "Sound of the Tide", and it makes me giggle with what I have planned for it.

Expect another update for both "Blessed Victory" and "Sound of the Tide" some time this week! And Happy Indenpendence day to all the American readers, and happy Canada Day or whatever you Canadians call it!


	21. Chapter 21

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 21/?  
Rating: PG-13!  
Warnings: Coarse language, sexual innuendo, I think everyone has come to expect that from Zaraki by now.  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. In Japan, this would be considered as a great tribute to his sucess and genius. In America, not so much. :(  
A/N: Point A and B sucessfully connected. Consider my "filler" over for now.

* * *

Nanashi Katsue woke slowly from a deep sleep. Eyes heavy, she stretched out languorously on her bed roll as the sun poured in through a nearby window. It took her a moment, but when she finally realized that she was alone in bed, she wasn't surprised. With a small frown on her full lips, she stared at the empty spot beside her. Zaraki hadn't been gone long, she could tell from the warmth still emanating from the bed roll. With a huge sigh, she finally convinced her tired body to haul itself out of bed and get dressed.

Zaraki had been waking up early for the past few days, ever since Captain Kuchiki had busted up their beach party and hauled Rukia back to Sereitei. Katsue could tell by just looking at the taught muscles in Zaraki's shoulders that something had bothered him. What she couldn't tell was if it was simply the Sixth Squad's captain's presence, or something more. Whatever it was, Zaraki had been growing increasingly restless as the days passed.

Her feet were silent on the polished wooden floors of Urahara's shop as she made her way towards the back storage room. She could feel Zaraki's reiatsu pulsing from bellow her—there was only one place he could be, and that was the training room. She checked her zanpakutou at her hip, just in case Zaraki was in the sort of mood to spar, before she yanked up the trap door that opened on the long ladder to the room.

Sure enough, the moment the door swung open a blast of hot air and Zaraki's spirit power rushed up as if she had broken the seal on a vacuum. She descended the ladder quietly and quickly, even as the backlash of his power whipped a fierce wind around her. She kept a firm grip on the steel bars, and leapt to the safety of firm ground once she was within a reasonable distance of the ground.

Captain Zaraki Kenpachi was sitting cross-legged on a huge boulder, his hands resting limply on his lap and his zanpakutou on the stone before him. Katsue let out a relieved breath she hadn't realized she was holding, before making her way to his side. She climbed up beside him without a word, and simply waited as she listened to his breathing.

In seven counts…hold…slow release…repeat.

It was the most relaxed she had seen him within the past few days, she thought as she propped her chin up on one fist and watched him. His face was calm, relaxed, his body sitting comfortably and unmoving on the stone. There was even a softness to his firm jaw and harsh brows that she only ever saw when he was in a deep sleep. She smiled as he finally moved, one of his muscled arms reaching out to wrap around her waist and tug her close to his side.

"Mornin'," he rumbled without breaking the pace of his breathing exercise. "I tried not to wake you."

Katsue took a deep, steadying breath before she replied. "I'm sorry."

Finally, Zaraki cracked an eye open to cast her a sideways look. "The hell you apologizin' for? Did you get into trouble again?"

"I sent Abarai-san to Sereitei last night and request that Captain Byakuya rush the conclusion of the terms of your return," she replied, avoiding his eyes by looking at her folded hands on her lap.

A low, deep, irritated growl started up deep in Zaraki's chest. "What the hell did you do that for? Now the prick is gonna think I asked a favor of him or some shit."

"Because you don't belong here!" she rushed heatedly, gently pulling out of his embrace. There was a momentary silence between them as she took the time to put a few inches of distance between them. "You think I haven't noticed how much it's been killing you to be in the real world?" she whispered to her folded hands.

"Tch," Zaraki grunted and folded his arms over his chest. "Stupid woman. What are you talkin' about?"

"It hasn't even been two weeks, Kenpachi, and you're pacing the halls like a cat in a trap," she started slowly, an embarrassed blush rising in her cheeks. She could feel his eyes on her, staring shamelessly as she struggled to find the right words. "You've been becoming more and more restless!"

Katsue had barely noticed at first, but along with Zaraki's earlier wake-up times he had also stopped taking his frequent afternoon naps. Instead he had been pouring over the scrolls and paperwork Captain Kuchiki had brought for him, even though Yumichika had taken care of them all within two days. Then he had started participating in Katsue and Ichigo's training. Yoruichi had called him their "motivation"; he had restlessly badgered and teased Ichigo until he was capable of punching with his reiatsu acting as a guiding force, and had shamelessly dropped innuendos towards Katsue that rarely failed to break her concentration. Thanks to him, she had learned to keep a better grip on herself even with distractions.

When that hadn't been enough, he had started doing morning, noon, and evening exercise routines and practicing his sword work—something that had Yumichika and Ikkaku shocked speechless until he had practically beaten them until they joined in with him. Eventually, Zaraki had started brandishing his zanpakutou at Renji and Ichigo both, to try and taunt them into sparring matches. That had failed miserably when Renji had broken both his arms in one match—which Katsue had to fix with one of her potions—and Ichigo down right _ran_ to avoid Zaraki.

"Ain't my fault," Zaraki grunted.

"No, but it's mine," she whispered in reply, so softly that she was sure he hadn't heard her.

But Zaraki had, and he grabbed her back up in his arms and tugged her onto his lap. "Stupid," he rumbled and tucked her against his chest as his arms wrapped around her like a comforting cocoon. "What makes you say shit like that?"

Katsue blinked away the tears she suddenly found brimming in her stormy gray eyes, and tried to shove against his hard chest to put space between them. Her efforts were in vain, though, as he simply sat there, a giant immovable force. "Because I'm the reason you're here, when you should be in Sereitei doing your job! You have nothing to keep you busy here! The boredom is driving you crazy," she sniffled, and finally resorted to burying her face against his warm chest.

He was rumbling again, only this time in a sort of gentle purr. "So the vacation's runnin' longer than I hoped," he grumbled. "It ain't your fault."

She looked up at him, blinking past the tears. "Yes it is, you dolt," she grumbled back.

With a huge sigh, Zaraki rolled his bare eye. He had finally started wearing his eye patch again, after Yumichika had made some off handed comment about Zaraki's "beautiful" yellow eyes resembling perfectly cut topazes. "Yeah but who gives a shit? You're comin' back with me and no harm is done."

She simply stared flatly at him.

"Well, besides you givin' that Kuchiki prick a hand up on me," he scowled. "You're gonna have to work that debt off, babe."

"Quit it, I'm serious!" she scolded when she felt his arms tighten around her, suggestively tugging her closer to him. "You need to go back to Sereitei! Admit it, Zaraki, you miss it."

He stared at her for a moment, before he let out a defeated sigh. "You're a real pain in the ass sometimes, you know that?"

She looked away from him, cringing slightly.

"Aw come on," he rumbled before propping his chin up on the top of her head. "I was teasin'. Kuchiki's last words've just been buggin' the shit out of me."

"What do you miss so much that you can't stand to sit still and relax for a couple weeks?" she murmured quietly, even as she settled in against his chest. She had her cheek pressed to the bit of bare skin that his shihakusho left revealed, silently taking comfort in the heat from his body.

He was quiet for a moment, before letting out a huge sigh. "Bustin' some god damn heads in," he snorted with a wry grin. "It's odd as hell watchin' you and Kurosaki trainin' while I have to just sit and watch while Yoruichi does the yellin'. I keep wantin' to smack Kurosaki upside the head and call him a weak-kneed pansy."

Katsue smiled softly and tilted her head ever so slightly, so that her ear was pressed to his chest, too. She closed her eyes as she listened to his heart beat, the air rush into his lungs, and the deep reverberation of his voice as he spoke.

"There're no new recruits wettin' their hakama on their first day in the squad," he continued, one of his massive hands slowly rubbing circles against her back. "No one complainin' about Yachiru stealin' the dessert off their dinner trays. No Yachiru." He scowled suddenly. "What the hell you think that cold ass in charge of the Tenth is doin' with Yachiru?"

"I'm sure Captain Hitsugaya has left Yachiru in Matsumoto's capable hands," she replied softly, before stifling a yawn against his haori.

Zaraki grunted irritably. "As if that's any better. You know how much trouble those two get in to? I'll be surprised if we go back and Yachiru hasn't broken a bone or gotten her head stuck in a hole somewhere."

Suddenly, Katsue's eyes snapped open as she pulled away to look up at Zaraki. He grinned slowly when her gray eyes met his, and was in the process of cupping her chin in one large hand when she finally gave him a brilliant smile. "You just miss Yachiru!"

"Bullshit," he snapped, his grin turning abruptly into a scowl. "I've been toting that little runt around on my back for the past couple hundred years, I'm glad I finally got a damn break!"

Katsue simply laughed, her voice clear and strong like the sound of bells on a spring morning. He growled irritably before pressing a kiss to her soft lips, sufficiently silencing her laughter. She was still giggling, though, when she settled back into his arms. "It's okay to miss your little girl," she teased, her voice a gentle purr as she reached out with one arm to play with a bell in his hair.

"You will see her soon enough," a calm, cold voice broke the silence. Zaraki's eyes went flat as he turned where he sat, a growl rising up from deep in his chest. Katsue blushed and tried to scramble out of his lap as she spotted Captain Kuchiki the same time he did, but Zaraki was having none of that.

"The hell do you want? We're busy!" he snapped and tightened his grip on Katsue, keeping her firmly anchored on his lap.

Kuchiki Byakuya didn't even frown as he held up one hand, and the large parchment he had rolled up in it. "Are you not interested in your return terms?" He was perfectly cool, calm, and collected. One would have never thought that only a few days ago he had been the epitome of an angry big brother guarding his little sister from the eyes of virile young men. "I think they are rather reasonable. However, I can see you are not interested in returning to Sereitei. I will tell High Commander Yamamoto to prepare the Special Ops to rein in the Eleventh Squad—"

Zaraki heaved with a huge sigh and finally let Katsue scramble out of his lap. He rose to his feet slowly, scowling fiercely at Byakuya as he did. "What're the damn terms?" he snapped, his hand snatching his zanpakutou from the boulder it had rested on.

Byakuya took a deep breath, before launching into the details of the scroll he held. "You are to return within a day, with Officer Nanashi. Upon your arrival you are to immediately quell the riots, and enact appropriate disciplinary action on every participating member of your squad. Officers Madarame and Ayasegawa are placed on disciplinary probation for violating the laws of Sereitei and the terms of use on the Senkai Gates."

Zaraki cursed at the last part. Damn his luck that Ikkaku and Yumichika would get punished and he'd have to do their damn paper work for the duration of their probation. "What else?" he growled.

Byakuya simply glanced at the scroll he held, before returning his cold blue-eyed gaze onto Zaraki and Katsue. "Really, Captain Zaraki, the details are all on the scroll. You must learn to read if you are to take over all the paperwork for the Eleventh Squad."

Snarling angrily, Zaraki closed the distance between them and snatched the scroll from Byakuya's hand. Byakuya remained calm, though, as he casually let his arm fall back to his side. "You're a damn prick, Kuchiki."

"So you say quite often," Byakuya replied, before closing his eyes. He pretended to ignore Zaraki's angry snarls and growls and he turned ever so slightly to face Katsue. "Officer Nanashi, you are to return to your duties as the Eleventh's personal clinician. High Commander Yamamoto has deemed it unsafe for you to remain in Karakura Town given recent events. You are to continue your training under the watch of Captain Soi Fong, as well as several other terms placed upon you for Captain Zaraki's return."

Blushing, Katsue bowed deeply to Byakuya. "Yes, sir," she replied, much to Zaraki's displeasure.

"Now tell me what the hell you got out of this shit," Zaraki snapped irritably, his eye momentarily flashing yellow.

"Vice Captains Matsumoto and Kusajishi will stop writing graffiti on the walls of my property," Byakuya replied simply, before turning on one heel and heading back towards the ladder that lead to Urahara's shop. "My groundskeeper is tired of all the pink."

Zaraki was about to make an angry rebuttal when Byakuya suddenly disappeared, his shun po technique taking him well out of ear shot of Zaraki's bellowing insults. When he had finally finished yelling at empty air, Zaraki turned back to Katsue's with a scowl firmly on his face. She was reading over the scroll, one of her fingers stuffed in her mouth as she chewed on a finger nail. "What the hell else does that say?"

"Well, Captain Kuchiki gets Yachiru for an hour a week for the rest of the year for lessons on being a proper lady," she started hesitantly.

Zaraki let out a frustrated roar, his zanpakutou clearing its' sheathe in a flash as he lashed out at the nearest boulder. Katsue didn't even blink as the poor thing exploded, showering both her and Zaraki in a cloud of red dust. "That prick!"

"The rest is rather reasonable," she smiled gently at him, "considering how much damage the Eleventh has done, and that you had attacked High Commander Yamamoto."

Sighing, Zaraki sheathed his blade and gave her a flat look. Without another word her grabbed her in one arm and slung her over his shoulder. She squealed and thrashed as he turned towards the ladder, a low rumble in his chest. "Well I ain't goin' back till the last damn minute now," he grinned and patted her rump. She was shouting obscenities at him and threatening him for manhandling her, but he honestly didn't care. "And seein' as how you're the reason Kuchiki showed up here today, I plan to make you pay for it the rest of the day."

"I'm tired," she pouted and went limp on his shoulder. "I have a headache. I don't feel well. I have morning breath."

Zaraki laughed. "Then just lay there for all I care."

* * *

Thank you as always for all your kind feedback. =) It's always good to see REVIEW ALERT in my inbox, from old reviewers and new alike!


	22. Chapter 22

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 22/?  
Rating: PG-13 (wat! again?!)  
Warnings: Mild cursing  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo!  
A/N: Please forgive any typos! I just got a laptop, and I'm not used to these keyboards. I went over it a couple times, though, so I hope I got all of them really bad ones at least...

* * *

Katsue was barely suppressing her laughter as she casually strolled through the Sixth Squad's division of Sereitei, heading towards the sprawling land that Captain Kuchiki's house was located on. The tall walls lining either side of the street she walked were covered from bottom to top with graffiti of varying topics and colors, ranging from lewd jokes to misspelled declarations of hatred for Captain Kuchiki. And every couple of meters, bright pink paint covered it all in some fantastical, crudely drawn picture that had to be the result of Matsumoto and Yachiru's little rebellion. One picture, Katsue had been immensely pleased to find, depicted Yachiru and Zaraki hosting a fish fry at the Eleventh Headquarters, with Captain Kuchiki's prized giant koi as the entrée.

By the time she reached the front gates of Captain Kuchiki's house, she had managed to wipe her tearing eyes dry and hide her amused smile. With a deep breath, she waited patiently as the gate guards confirmed her identity before they would let her pass. She had hardly taken a few steps into the pristine entry courtyard when a bright pink rocket dashed from the main house's door and collided into her legs.

"Nana-chan!" Yachiru wailed, tears pouring down her round little cheeks as her fists clenched tightly at Katsue's hakama. Katsue staggered and grabbed at the top of her pants as the little girl yanked on them furiously, threatening to drag the thick cloth down Katsue's hips. Blushing, Katsue smiled and bent over to wrap her lean arms around the little girl in a tight hug.

"Hey there, Yachi-yachi," Katsue laughed softly even as Yachiru sobbed in her ear, her little arms wrapping around Katsue's neck as the woman straightened. "You've gotten taller!"

"Why did you leave me?" Yachiru wailed and buried her face into Katsue's kimono, even as she clung possessively to the woman.

"I'm sorry, Yachi-yachi," Katsue hugged the girl tightly against her chest, burying her own face into Yachiru's soft pink hair. She simply stood there for a few moments as Yachiru cried out her distress, before the little girl finally stopped with a quiet hiccup. Finally, she looked up shyly at Katsue.

"Was it something I did?" she whispered, her already pink cheeks growing an even deeper shade of red.

Wide-eyed, Katsue stared at her little bundle of pink for a moment, before she balked. "No, Yachiru—"

"'C-c-cause Captain Shorty s-s-said that," Yachiru sniveled miserably, "that he didn't blame you for leavin' 'cause I'm so s-s-spoiled!"

With a wry little smile, Katsue jiggled Yachiru in her arms before she tucked the little girl's head back into the crook of her neck. "And what do you think Ken-chan would have to say about that?"

Yachiru hiccupped with a soft laugh, before she sniffled. "That Shorty is a dipshit an' then he'd prolly try to kill him."

"I would never leave because of you, Yachi-yachi," Katsue smiled softly, hugging the little Vice Captain tightly.

"Oh, guess what I learned today!" and as if nothing at all had happened, Yachiru was back to her normal, cheerful self, if a bit teary-eyed and snot-nosed. "Bya-bya-kun and Dragon Lady taught me how to draw!"

A soft, weary sigh broke Katsue's attention from Zaraki's vice captain. She blushed profusely as she spotted Captain Kuchiki standing only a few yards away, completely unnoticed up until that point. She bowed hastily as deep as Yachiru's heavy weight could allow her. "What did I teach you about proper addresses, Vice Captain Kusajika?"

Yachiru let out her own deflated sigh as she looked over her shoulder at Captain Kuchiki. In a perfectly monotonous voice, as if she had been repeating the lesson all day, Yachiru replied: "That it's rude not to use proper titles."

"And?" Captain Kuchiki calmly quirked one perfectly-shaped eyebrow at the little girl.

"Your name isn't Bya-bya-kun," Yachiru sighed again. "But Dragon Lady said to call you that!" she protested heatedly.

Katsue's blush redoubled as she spotted a muscle twitch in Captain Kuchiki's jaw. She struggled to quiet Yachiru, going so far as to offer to buy her ice cream, but the little girl would have none of that.

"And she said she liked me callin' her Dragon Lady!" Yachiru continued.

"Be that as it may," Kuchiki Byakuya huffed, visibly irritated for the first time Katsue had ever seen in her hundreds of years in Sereitei, "You may not refer to me with the nickname Lady Kuchiki uses for me."

"My apologies, Captain Kuchiki," Katsue hurried just as she caught one of Yachiru's little hands with her own, just as the girl was about to show off a very rude hand sign to the captain of the sixth squad. "How was Vice Captain Kusajika today?"

Captain Kuchiki was silent for a moment as he straightened the pristine white scarf he kept wrapped around his throat. Katsue kept completely silent, thinking that the motion somehow helped the captain get his nerves back under control. "I think," he started calmly, monotonously, "that between Vice Captain Kusajika and my dear sister, that I shall be going prematurely grey within the year."

Katsue stared at him blankly for a moment. Did the captain just try to make a joke?

"Please bring her back next week, around morning tea time, if you will," Captain Kuchiki went on, blatantly ignoring the puzzled look on Katsue's face. "It became alarmingly obvious this afternoon that the vice captain lacks proper manners for a tea ceremony."

And sensing the dismissal, Katsue bowed once again with Yachiru still perched on her hip. "Thank you very much, Captain Kuchiki," Katsue murmured before she took a step backwards, then turned to leave. She barely managed to suppress her laughter until she was out of the front gate, and a good couple hundred meters away from the guards. The moment she rounded a corner, she burst into laughter. "He served you tea?"

Giggling herself, Yachiru launched into the story about "Bya-bya-kun's" afternoon tea service. Katsue laughed so hard she started to cry when Yachiru informed her of how appalled Captain Kuchiki became when she tried to drink out of the tea pot that he had actually almost shouted at her.

"And you'll never guess what!" Yachiru cried out jubilantly as she finally finished her story and both girl and woman had stopped laughing. "You'll never, ever, ever guess!" she cried, thrusting her arms into the air and waving them vigorously in front of Katsue's face.

Smiling happily, Katsue bounced Yachiru on her hip. "What, Yachi-yachi?"

And in one fluid movement, Yachiru yanked open her kimono and thrust out her chest proudly. "My boobies are starting to grow!"

Roaring with laughter, Katsue barely managed to tug the girl's kimono back into place with one hand. She actually had to set Yachiru back down on the ground as she straightened her shihakusho back out, all while laughing hysterically. "I'm sorry, Yachiru!" she gasped between laughs at the hurt look on Yachiru's round face. "I'm so happy for you, really, I am," she giggled, ruffling the girl's pink hair.

Yachiru simply jutted out her bottom lip in a firm pout.

Smiling, Katsue squatted down in front of Yachiru and looked her over with a keen eye. She cupped her chin with one hand, as if she were deep in thought, before she slapped her fist into the open palm of her other hand. "I see it! You _are_ growing breasts!"

And then Yachiru was grinning again, proudly holding her shoulders back, chest out.

"Let's go tell Ken-chan, yeah?" Katsue grinned back.

Yachiru's eyes grew big and wide as she stared at Katsue's, her mouth drooping open. "Ken-chan is back?" she squeaked.

"Yep," Katsue nodded wisely. "Did Captain Kuchiki only tell you that I was back?"

"Hurry up, Nana-chan!" Yachiru squealed, her little hands latching strongly onto Katsue's sleeves and tugging firmly. Katsue stumbled to her feet as the strong little girl dragged her down the street, almost at a dead run. "We're gonna miss the show!"

**XXXX**

Captain Zaraki Kenpachi was down right scowling. His strong brows were furrowed, turning his forehead into a plow field as he stared with his one bare eye at the sight before him. He hadn't minded, at first, that his squad had turned into a ravenous, havoc-inducing mob over his self-resignation from his seat as captain. It was touching, to be quite honest. But that was when he had ignorantly assumed that the weak idiots had kept all the rioting outside of the Eleventh Squad itself.

But no, instead here he was, only a good hour or so after his return to Sereitei, and he had _this_ unwelcome sight to come to.

With a low snarl, he stepped over one of the fallen pillars that had acted as the right side of the gate to the Eleventh Division, but was currently fallen across the entry way, with the sign it supported lying horizontally against it so that the entire entrance looked like a giant triangle. Zaraki's hand went to the hilt of his zanpakutou as he spotted Katsue's small flower garden completely torn up, the dried and massacred plants strewn about the small courtyard in front of her clinic and the Eleventh's headquarters. Trash and varying debris littered the courtyard itself, and graffiti in deep black paint decorated both of the buildings. Shingles had fallen off the rooftops and lay broken on the walk ways.

And everywhere he looked, his unconscious men were sprawled out wherever they hell they had passed out the night before. Empty sake kegs were stacked four-tiers high against the storage shed that held the squad's practice gear (not that it got much use). The only thing Zaraki silently approved of was the straw scare crow they had erected in the middle of one of the sparring fields that resembled High Commander Yamamoto. It looked as if they had been using it for targeting practice.

"Shall I wake the troops?" Yumichika spoke quietly from his spot just behind Zaraki and to the left.

"If you could call them troops," Ikkaku snorted from Zaraki's right side. "Not even Rukongai looks like this."

Zaraki agreed whole heartedly. At least in Rukongai, the trash dumps were left where the trash dumps belonged. And Zaraki had made sure ever since he and Yachiru had come to Sereitei that they never lived in the same conditions that they had in Rukongai. To see that his division had fallen so far…

With a deep intake of breath, Zaraki squared his shoulders and stood to his full, proud height. "Wake the hell up, you worthless pieces of shit!" he roared and drew his zanpakutou in one smooth move. The effect was lost, though, as the only reaction he managed to stir out of his men was a grumbled "shut up", a couple of people rolling over, and one drunkard had even dared to throw an empty beer bottle at him.

Snarling louder with his displeasure, Zaraki started stomping his way towards the nearest man. "Yumichika, get the hose," he growled, before he started bellowing again. This time, he was sure to let his reiatsu do whatever the hell it felt like as he grabbed one unconscious man by the collar and _threw_ him towards a cluster of six sleeping men. "I said, _WAKE UP_!"

This time he got an appropriate action. The cluster of men immediately came to life as they struggled to stand and fall into rank in front of Zaraki. Others were hustling to straighten their shihakusho and rub the sleep out of their dull eyes. One man was _crawling_ on his hands and knees as he begged for Zaraki's forgiveness for throwing trash at him. The entire time Zaraki was bearing down onto each and every one of them with his heavy reiatsu, snarling and growling and making his general displeasure very well known.

Yumichika, however, was humming happily as he unraveled the garden hose that was attached to the side of Katsue's clinic. With a cheerful smile at the closest scraggily and dirty man, Yumichika cranked the hose on full blast and turned it on to the unsuspecting troupe. More men woke as the freezing cold water drenched them, and scrambled the moment they realized that their captain was back and in charge.

And the entire time Zaraki was bellowing insults and whacking at his men with the flat edge of his zanpakutou as he paced the lines. Each time he came into a gap in the ranks, he roared and shouted insults at the missing man until he managed to get to his spot, or his comrades dragged him there. The whole matter only took a few minutes, but Zaraki was sure it was the most miserable time the men of his squad had ever had. By the time they were done lining up, several were bruised, dozens were soaking wet, and he was sure a fair share of them had pissed their hakama.

"Now," Zaraki roared as Yumichika finally turned off the hose and an uneasy silence fell over his gathered squad, "I sure as hell didn't tell you pricks to wreck the damn place while I was gone!"

"B-b-but Captain—"

Zaraki smacked the offending man upside the head as he stalked past him, effectively silencing the skinny whelp's protests. "What the hell is that!" he roared, pointing an accusing finger at the foot of another man.

Stuttering, the man looked down at the pile of muck he was miserably standing in. "I-I-I think it's c-c-c-crap, s-sir."

"Can someone tell me why the hell there is _shit_ on my sparring field?" Zaraki absolutely roared, his reiatsu going bat shit crazy as he grabbed the back of the man's head and pushed down, slamming him straight into the pile of shit he stood in. "Why is my office covered in graffiti? Why is the gate to my gods' forsaken district toppled? And why," he paused for dramatic effect as he glared from one man to the next, "is Katsue's garden wrecked?"

A sea of stuttered excuses murmured up from several people, and Zaraki roared his displeasure once again. He lashed out with his zanpakutou, effectively destroying the shattered remains of the toppled pillar with the sheer force of his reiatsu. Silence fell immediately.

"Clean this shit up," he growled quietly between his teeth. "And I suggest you start with Katsue's clinic before she gets back, and you have to deal with her." The last part he aimed at one of the men that had desecrated her clinic door so long ago. The man visibly gulped, his knees trembling as he saluted Zaraki. "I said, _get to work_!" he roared, and finally the entire squad broke rank and scurried to tidy up the courtyard.

"That was rather entertaining," Ikkaku drawled lazily as he fell into step beside his captain. He yawned in feigned boredom as he watched a group of men and women hurrying to pick the trash out of the remaining live plants in Katsue's garden. Another group was setting to work with buckets of steaming water and soap to try and wash away the graffiti, while another patched up the roof tops.

"You two are supposed to be on probation," Zaraki huffed irritably as he sheathed his zanpakutou and crossed his thick arms over his chest. He watched the activities with a watchful eye, his reiatsu still flaring threateningly to act as a reminder to his squad that he was still there.

"We've worked without pay before," Yumichika sighed airily. "And besides, I would rather do the paperwork than to come back to work to find you messed it all up. It took me months last time to sort everything back out…"

Zaraki shot him a quick glare, before he went back to watching his squad. "What's the first thing I gotta do now that I'm back?" he rumbled irritably. He had read over the entire list of responsibilities that had been placed on him for his return last night, but there had been so many he could hardly remember a few of them.

"Well, Yachiru has already started her lessons as of this morning," Yumichika ignored Zaraki's angry growl and continued, "And you have managed to reign in the squad in only a few minutes. So I would have to say that repairing all the damages would be your first responsibility to take care of."

Zaraki huffed grumpily. "They're turnin' my squad from a bunch of warriors into a bunch of bloody maids…"

* * *

Slowly yet surely, the ball will get rolling...

I just spent $70 on some Zaraki fanbooks on Ebay. They make me go fan girl so hard that I foam at the mouth and black out for a few hours.


	23. Chapter 23

Title: Blessed Victory  
Chapter: 23/?  
Rating: NC-17 LIEK WHOA.  
Warnings: Cursing, adult language, innuendo, dirty talk, and the must delicious sounding sex I have ever written. I think.  
Pairings: Kenpachi x OC  
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo!  
A/N: I AM SO SORRY.

This was delayed MUCH longer than I thought or anticipated. I just moved into a new apartment, in a new town, about to start at a new university, and I tell you what: shit is crazy. That's no excuse though, but I bring candy and smut as a peace offering. T.T I love you all for being such loyal readers, I really, really, REALLY do.

* * *

Nanashi Katsue looked like a complete and utter mess. She sighed as she stared at herself in the little mirror over her exam room's counters, her shoulders slumped in exhaustion. Her hair was pulled up in a sloppy bun, with pins threatening to fall out and stray strands of hair poking in every direction. The skin around her eyes was dark and bruised from lack of sleep, and her normally tan skin was starting to turn an unbecoming shade of gray. "Send the next one in," she croaked and let her hands drop, returning to their work of thoroughly sanitizing their dry and chapped skin. She had washed her hands so many damned times this week…

"But Nanashi-kun," Hanatarou paused on his path towards the door, his own bruised eyes considering her hesitantly. "It's only ten minutes until closing time, couldn't we just close up early this once…?"

Katsue was utterly silent as she turned her head to give him a dead glance, her usually bright gray eyes flat and expressionless. She looked like a zombie.

Sighing in defeat, Hanatarou weakly tugged the rice paper door open and bowed sloppily. "Next," he croaked himself.

The pair had been working virtually non-stop for the past week attending to every wounded Shinigami that had tried to reign in the Eleventh Squad's rebellion, as Zaraki's return demands dictated. Katsue hadn't expected to see so many patients in so short a time—hell, she hadn't expected the Eleventh to have wounded so many people. But after the first three days of non-stop patients going in and out of her door, it became bleakly apparent that the damages the wayward squad had caused in Zaraki's absence were record-breaking.

She had seen men and women from every single squad in Sereitei, even Captain Kurotsuchi's Twelfth Division, which usually avoided combat situations. The wounds had ranged from simple abrasions and sword wounds to sprains, fractions, shattered bones, and concussions. She had even seen to one unfortunate man that had some rather unpleasant items shoved rather far up his rectum. That patient had not been pleasant to tend to. To accommodate the alarming volume of patients, Katsue had been forced to open her clinic two hours earlier and keep it open two hours longer each day, which resulted in both her and Hanatarou working off very little sleep.

"Nana-kun!" a bright, characteristically optimistic voice rang out cheerily as Vice Captain Kusajishi skipped merrily into Katsue's clinic.

Katsue shuffled her feet as she turned to face the little girl, a weak smile turning on her lips. "Did you scrape your knees again, Yachi-Yachi?"

"Nope!" Yachiru sang as she laced her tiny little fingers with Katsue's, and did a complete one-eighty and turned to walk back out of the clinic, Katsue in tow. "Bye, Hana-kimi!"

Hanatarou watched silently as Katsue stumbled along in the little pink-haired girl's wake, her dull eyes looking momentarily surprised as her mouth worked in a silent protest. He poked his head out the door to watch them go, ignoring the jabs and jeers from the still waiting long line of injured patients. Once the two disappeared into the Eleventh Squad's headquarters, Hanatarou slowly looked around to consider the line. Slowly, and with all the deliberateness he could muster, Hanatarou slid the door shut and locked it securely.

He was sure that ten minutes really wouldn't make that big of a difference, and he sure as hell wasn't going to put up with annoyed and injured Shinigami in his current state and all by his lonesome.

Meanwhile, Katsue was tripping over her own damn feet as she struggled to keep pace with Yachiru's fast pace. The little girl was still humming happily, blatantly ignoring any and all of Katsue's protests, as she guided the older woman to Zaraki's room. It wasn't until the two were in the brightly-lit room and the door closed securely behind them that Yachiru finally released Katsue's hand.

"How am I supposed to get a baby brother when you and Ken-chan are too busy working!" Yachiru huffed, all of a sudden a frown on her little pink lips as she scurried behind Katsue, and pushed the woman towards an empty chair.

Katsue quirked an eyebrow as she flopped down into the chair. "Excuse me?"

"And lookit you!" Yachiru clucked her tongue and put her hands on her hips as she gave Katsue a once-over. "Nana-chan, you need to be taking better care of yourself!"

"Why do you sound like me?" Katsue moaned piteously, flinging an arm across her eyes as she sank back. "I feel like I'm an intern under Captain Unohana all over again…"

Yachiru let out a little sigh, before she started helping Katsue out of her shihakusho. The girl's hands were quick and deft as she untied Katsue's obi, and went to work peeling off the layers of her kimono. Katsue's hands, however, were slow and clumsy and several times Yachiru swatted her hands away. Finally, Katsue gave up and let out an exasperated sigh.

"I suppose you're right," she muttered under her breath and slouched where she sat, dull gray eyes watching Yachiru's hands. "I can't believe how many people the Eleventh injured, and I have to heal them all with just Hanatarou's help!"

Yachiru pursed her lips stubbornly as she started on the ties to Katsue's hakama. "It's not fair! You didn't have anything to do with the riot," she huffed, almost pouting. "Now I have no one to play with, 'cause you and Ken-chan are too busy working and crap. Even Big-Booby-kun is too busy! I almost couldn't convince her to come over tonight!"

"'Convince' isn't the word I would use, Yachiru-chan."

Katsue looked up half-heartedly as the door to Zaraki's room slid open impatiently, admitting the buxom Vice Captain from the Tenth Division. Matsumoto Rangiku regarded Katsue interestedly, before letting out a sympathetic sigh. "Nanashi-kun, you are a mess!"

"What's going on?" Katsue whined just as Yachiru started to tug impatiently at her loose hakama.

"I'm tired of Captain Hitsugaya complaining about Captain Zaraki's mantrums," Matsumoto grinned wickedly as she held out the garment box she carried. "And Yachiru-chan is tired of you both working so hard, so—"

"All work and no play makes Ken-chan grumpy and Nana-kun look like dog poo," Yachiru huffed as she finally managed to pull off Katsue's hakama, without the older woman's aid. She threw the things away with an annoyed glare at the innocent fabric, before turning her fierce brown eyes on to Katsue. "So you need a play date!"

Giggling to herself, Matsumoto hurried to join Yachiru by Katsue. With a mischievous look, she discarded the box on top of Zaraki's desk, and set about pulling a cosmetics bag out of its hiding place down the front of her kimono. "Try to relax and enjoy yourself, Nanashi-chan," she sang happily as Yachiru hopped up to sit on the desk, humming cheerfully.

Katsue glanced at the cosmetics bag, then back and forth between Matsumoto and Yachiru. "Please don't," she murmured weakly. "Remember the last time you played with make-up, Yachi-Yachi?"

"That was different!" Yachiru sang. "That wasn't real make-up, and me and Big-Booby-kun were drunk."

"Don't worry, Nanashi-chan," Matsumoto smiled reassuringly as she gently pushed Katsue back into her chair. "The make-up is the least of your worries."

**XXXX**

Captain Zaraki Kenpachi was rumbling with a deep, discontent growl as he stood impatiently in front of the First Division's headquarters. He had come because he was summoned by that old bastard Yamamoto, and so far he had been waiting a good hour to be seen. Ikkaku lounged lazily against the wall beside him while Yumichika browsed through a folder of documents he had brought with him. "I'm leaving," Zaraki snarled under his breath as he finally unfolded his arms from across his broad chest.

"That wouldn't be the best decision," Yumichika chided him quietly before shuffling his papers.

"The hell it wouldn't," Ikkaku snapped, just as irritable as his captain. "The hell did he summon us here for if they're just making us wait?"

"I got better things to do with my time," Zaraki agreed. Things like screwing Katsue's brains out, he thought absently to himself. He was consciously aware of his woman's reiatsu, or whatever the hell it was he felt from her, shining like a beacon from the confines of his room a good six kilometers from where he stood. If he hurried, he could make it back home before she crawled in bed and passed out for the night. It would be the first time in over a week he'd get to see her while she was still conscious.

"More important things than your duty, Captain Zaraki?" a calm, cool voice drawled from the door way to the First Headquarters.

Zaraki's face went hard as he glared at the vice captain of the First Division, Sasakibe Choujirou. The uptight prick was regarding him with a cool look as he waited, one arm holding the door open for Zaraki and his officers. "I said better," Zaraki growled quietly.

"High Commander Yamamoto will see you now," Sasakibe bowed his head slightly, the smallest amount of respect he had to show for a captain.

Audibly snarling, Zaraki turned on his heel and stalked past the scrawny vice captain, Yumichika and Ikkaku following close behind. He made his way through the all too familiar hall ways despite Sasakibe trying to guide him in the proper direction. By the time he reached Yamamoto's office, Zaraki was scowling grumpily and his reiatsu was manifesting in a yellow aura around him. "The hell do you want, Yamamoto?"

High Commander Yamamoto ignored him for a moment as the old man slowly closed a folder and filed it away in his desk. Without even looking up or saying a word, Yamamoto put another folder on his desk and slid it ever so slightly in Zaraki's direction. Yumichika immediately stepped forward to take the folder and read through it, all while Zaraki glared mercilessly at Yamamoto. "The hell is that?"

"Case reports," Yamamoto finally replied as he finally looked up at Captain Zaraki. His cold black eyes regarded him thoughtfully, before he placed his gnarled old hands on the security of his walking staff. "I would like for you to read over them by the end of the week and report back to me. We have much to discuss, Captain Zaraki."

Zaraki snorted disdainfully and snatched the folder from Yumichika, earning him an offended frown from his fifth seat officer. He flipped it open and scanned over the first case report, his grumpy attitude growing gradually into full-on pissed off. "The fuck do you want me to read about this shit?" he rumbled quietly.

"I want to be sure you understand the predicament you put me in," Yamamoto replied slowly, as if he were carefully thinking over each word that was coming out of his mouth. "You can see why I am so concerned."

"Me and Katsue are none of your damned business," Zaraki snapped, closing the folder and shoving it back into Yumichika's hands. "We've already had this damn discussion, Yamamoto. And that ended in me storming out of here and you down a squad of Special Ops."

"I will not again interfere with you and Officer Nanashi as I did," Yamamoto replied, his own voice growing angrier. "But I do ask that you understand and are aware that I must lay down guide lines for the best interest of all Sereitei."

"Fuck off," Zaraki snarled and stormed out of the room, shoving Vice Captain Sasakibe out of his way as he stalked down the hall ways. Ikkaku and Yumichika hurried to follow him, both of them nosing through the sheaves of paper that Yamamoto had placed within the folder.

"Captain Inuha and Fifth Seat Inuha, married," Yumichika spoke absently as he scanned over a report. "Charged of high treason and found guilty of plotting to over throw House Kuchiki eight hundred years ago. Executed within the week."

"Here's a couple that stole newly forged zanpakutou from an armory," Ikkaku drawled, reading from his own stack of papers. "They were arming a guerilla squad from the Seventy-Eighth District of Rukongai to protest against Sereitei."

"All of these people are Captains that were sleeping with their subordinates," Yumichika frowned and shuffled through the papers. "It's a bit one sided," he muttered.

"I'm sure there were more people fucking each other that were lower in the ranks that did worse shit," Ikkaku huffed and shoved the remainder of his papers back into Yumichika's hands. Frowning, he watched the swaying haori of his captain as they burst into the setting sun light of Sereitei.

"Give me a few days in the library with Captain Ukitake, and I'm sure I can find plenty of cases in which captains were intimately involved with another person and didn't try to commit treason," Yumichika grumbled under his breath. With a resigned sigh, he closed the folder and glanced up at his captain. "Captain Zaraki?"

"See if you can find a report on Captain Kuchiki and his wife," Zaraki rumbled quietly, his pace not slowing as he prowled straight towards his headquarters in the Eleventh Division's territory. "I want to know what the fuck Yamamoto pulled with that prick."

Ikkaku quirked an eyebrow. "You think he tried to toy with _Kuchiki_?" he let out a low, appreciative whistle. "That old man's got some balls."

"Yeah well, unfortunately for me I don't have nobility to get me out of this bullshit," Zaraki spat to the side, tugging his sheathed zanpakutou free from his obi. His grip was tight on the hilt as he lifted it up and rested it over one shoulder, a sure sign to any unlucky Shinigami they passed that Zaraki wasn't in the mood to be fucked with. As he expected, everyone they saw avoided making eye contact with him, and hurried out of his way.

"Nope, but you got us, right?" Ikkaku huffed. "I ain't cleaning up jack shit though if we riot again."

Zaraki snorted in response, and the trio fell into a companionable, if grumpy, silence. The giant captain of the eleventh squad was scowling grumpily as he made his way homewards, his thin lips curved down in a firm frown and his eyebrows drawn together tightly. Despite the sudden urge to beat the crap out of someone, he was walking rather quickly in a hurry to get home. The sun had finally set beyond the horizon, but it was still a little light out. If he hurried he could make it home in time…

Yumichika prodded Ikkaku in the shoulder the moment they passed under the new stone arches that lead to the Eleventh Division. Frowning, Ikkaku quirked an eyebrow at his companion and stared at him curiously as Yumichika nodded his head suggestively towards Zaraki. Following his gesture, Ikkaku stared between Zaraki and his obvious destination: the captain's and officer's quarters.

With an irritated grunt, Ikkaku opened his mouth to ask Yumichika what the hell he was trying to say, but instead found one of the man's dainty hands clamped tightly over his maw. "We'll go do the evening inspection and lights out run," Yumichika said cheerily in Zaraki's general direction. He got a firm hold on the struggling Ikkaku, and hastily dragged the bald man off towards the dormitories.

Zaraki simply grunted absently in response and prowled into the large building that housed his rooms. A slow grin spread on his lips as he found the place suspiciously dark and silent, without a sign of little Yachiru. He paused momentarily in the large dining room where him and his officers shared any communal meals, and nodded in satisfaction at the sloppily-scrawled note left on the table. As he suspected, Yachiru was staying the night at Matsumoto's again.

There was a new vigor in Zaraki's step as he turned and headed straight for the stairs that led to his upstairs bedroom. As he scaled the steps two at a time, he hopped from one foot to the next to tear off his straw sandals and crisp white stockings. The heavy fabric of his haori joined his neglected footwear on the steps as he finally reached the top, and by the time he was at his door his obi and black kimono were scattered along the length of the hallway. He paused and listened at the door, and found only silence. A soft yellow light was seeping around the edges of the door, though, and under the crack at the bottom. Katsue was still awake, then, he thought happily as he tugged the door open and tore off his white kimono.

Katsue wasn't sitting at his desk, though, as he had expected. The small lamp that sat on it flickered weakly, the candle inside on its last dying moments, before it sputtered and died. With a deflated sigh, Zaraki spotted her laid out underneath the layers of blankets on his bed. Shoulders slumped dejectedly, he sulked and turned right back around, collected his abused clothes from the hall and stairwell, then returned to his room. Grumbling quietly under his breath, he threw the load, along with his hakama, into a pile in a corner with Katsue's own discarded shihakusho.

Zanpakutou in hand, Zaraki prowled quietly towards the bedside and stared down at her in the darkness. Poor girl, he smiled grimly as he listened to her soft, even breaths in the silence of his room. If there was anyone in all of Sereitei working harder than Katsue was this past week, he'd be flat out surprised. It was the same scene every night: he'd come home late from a long day of playing maid and find her passed out with her clothes on, sometimes on the wooden floor as if she hadn't had the energy to make it to bed.

With another sigh he placed his zanpakutou on the floor beside his side of the bed—the side closest to the door—and peeled back the blankets to crawl in bed beside her. He had expected the same as any other night: Katsue still in her shihakusho and too far gone to realize when he crawled in beside her. But it only took him a heartbeat to realize that her shihakusho was in the corner, where he had just thrown his own uniform. And a split second after that Katsue was rolling over in her sleep to face him, her small hands lighting softly on his chest as she snuggled close to him.

"Are those heathens gone?" she grumbled sleepily as her eyes fluttered open to gaze sleepily up at him.

Zaraki quirked a curious brow as he cupped her cheek. "Who?"

"Yachiru and Matsumoto," she yawned, stretching out alongside him as she did.

That's when Zaraki noticed that Katsue wasn't just naked, or wearing that fancy underwear he liked so much. "What the hell do you have on?" he rumbled and glanced down her body to find out, only to find the tops of her cleavage pushing up towards his face in a perky 'hello'. His cock immediately punched to life in the confines of the boxers that were slung low on his hips.

Katsue froze mid stretch, her cheeks heating in a quick blush as she scooted backwards and tugged the blanket up over her buxom chest. "N-nothing," she stuttered and wrapped the heavy blanket around her chest. "Cover your eyes while I change."

Grinning, Zaraki grabbed her up in his arms and tugged her close despite her protests. "You've been romping around naked in front of me since I first claimed you, Katsue," he rumbled provocatively, his voice deep and husky. "What could you possibly be wearin' that you wouldn't want me to see?"

"Kenpachi! Get your hands off of me!" she balked and shoved against his chest. He only replied with a rumbling laugh as he clutched her closer with one strong arm, his free hand peeling the blanket away from her body. "Yachiru and Matsumoto kidnapped me and put me in this thing! I don't want you to see it!"

"Why?" he asked absently. He was too busy struggling to see her in the dark to pay much attention to her protests. But all he could see was the stark contrast between the dark fabric she wore and her lighter skin—he couldn't see any detail, couldn't see what she was wearing, or how she looked in it. All he knew was that it was going to be more annoying to get her out of it than lingerie was, especially since he didn't know what the hell it was.

"Because it's ridiculous," she huffed and tried to slap his massive paws away.

Frowning in frustration, Zaraki batted her hands back absently. "For heaven's sake, woman," he growled, "it's been over a week since either of us have gotten off. And now that you're actually awake, I'm going to fuck you until you scream my name loud enough for Kurosaki in the living world to hear. Now, I would like to know what the hell you have on before I rip it off and never find out."

Katsue gasped breathlessly as he tore the blanket away and sat her down soundly on his lap. She had her lean arms held up shyly over her chest even as her body arched against him. He grinned as he felt her rub against his erection through the layers of their clothes, and brought one heavy hand down hard on her ass.

And was met with a resounding smack of his hand meeting bare skin. Brows arched curiously, Zaraki ran his hand along the smooth curve of her rump until he encountered the unmistakable feel of lace and silk on her hip. He felt a hard, metallic piece attached to a long, thin strip of silk and followed its length—down the long, lean plane of her thigh. "Oh hell," he rumbled as his hand encountered another little piece of metal just above the side of her knee and another field of silk and lace. "This I have to see in the light."

"Kenpachi, no!" she pouted as he lifted her from his lap and set her down beside him. He was out of the bed in a flash, hurrying towards his desk and the drawer where he kept spare candles for the lamp. "Just rip the damned thing off," she spoke hurriedly as she tried to follow him.

"I will," he replied as he found a candle. "Just as soon as I see it," he grinned wickedly and shoved the stick of wax into its holder in the lamp, lighting it the moment his hand found the box of matches beside it.

Soft, flittering candle light filled the room. Zaraki ripped his eye patch off, his reiatsu roaring to life, before he turned to face Katsue. Immediately, a deep rumbling growl tore out of the depths of his chest as he glanced over her once before running a slow, devouring, appreciative gaze along her body from head to toe.

Katsue was blushing furiously as she stood shyly in front of the bed. Her long auburn hair was loose and arranged in sloppy curls that framed her soft face. Her eyes were darkened with make up, her lips a brighter shade of red than normal. Zaraki thought that her skin even looked healthier than it had all week. But he didn't pay much attention to the little bit of make up that decorated her face—his attention was instantly riveted on the silk and lace garment that she wore.

What had the advertisements that he saw in the real world called it?—he thought as he stared at the pitch black silk that hugged her bodice tightly. Lace trimmed the edges, providing a meager barrier between his eyes and her bare breasts as the fabric pushed the swelling mounds up in a fashion that made his mouth water to taste her. "The hell is that?" he asked quietly as his eyes drank in the pinched-in waist that the fabric molded into her body. The bodice ended above the curves of her hips, with the front dipping down in a slight arrow. From there, she wore only a thin black lace thong that basically served no purpose; he could see every inch of flesh between her luscious thighs. The pieces of metal and silk that he had felt turned out to be black garters that race from the hips of her bodice, down along her long thighs to grip the top of black lace stockings that covered her from toe to knee.

"Matsumoto said that it's a teddy," Katsue blushed and averted her soft gray-eyed gaze. She crossed her arms in front of her self consciously, which only served to push her breasts up further. "Stop staring like that. I feel like an idiot enough without you looking at me like—"

"I could eat you," Zaraki growled, taking a slow, measured step in her direction. Katsue looked up in alarm, her cheeks flushing before turning bright pink. "Turn around."

She complied hesitantly, turning where she stood until Zaraki could look at her back side. Her heart pounded the inside of her chest as she heard a slight groan come from him. And before she knew it, his body was pressing tightly against her. "Kenpachi," she gasped breathlessly as his heavy hands landed on her shoulders. She shivered as he simply growled and ran his paws along her arms, the rough calluses on his fingers and palms raising goose bumps on her skin.

"Where can I buy you more of these?" he rumbled huskily as his mouth pressed hot kisses to her neck. She absolutely melted against him as his hands moved hers backward, until she could grip his bare hips. How had he gotten his boxers off so quickly…?

"I-I don't know," she replied quietly, her head rolling back on her shoulders as he bit down on her neck. "Lingerie stores…?"

"I'm going to buy you enough to rip one off that body of yours every night for an entire year," he swore heatedly and thrust against her, drawing throaty moans out of them both.

"You don't have the paycheck for that," she grinned slightly as her self confidence finally returned in a rush. She had protested heavily against wearing this thing when Matsumoto first showed it to her. It was silly; she had felt silly simply _looking_ at it. Teddies weren't the kind of thing she was comfortable with; hell, some of the thongs in her underwear drawer were still questionable to her.

But dear gods, Zaraki Kenpachi was practically purring like a giant kitten as he patiently stroked and touched her. How often did _that_ happen? Usually he was rough, quick, and aggressive with snarls and growls and a lot of victorious grins. He seemed to be momentarily stuck in neutral as he learned the lay out of the teddy, memorized the look and feel of her in it, and plotted his path of destruction that would eventually end with the teddy's demise.

When his deep purr escalated excitedly into a growl, Katsue pushed away from him and spun on her feet to face him. Smiling mischievously she maneuvered to keep him at arm's length as she backed towards the bed, him following obediently with the flowing prowl of a predator on the hunt. Slowly, she waggled a finger at him and shook her head. "You are _not_ ripping this thing apart, Kenpachi," she purred at him, her voice silky and seductive.

He hit her like a freight train as he tackled her to the bed. "Watch me," he snarled past a huge grin as they both tumbled in the nest of blankets and pillows. He was trying to get a grip on her slender wrists and pin her beneath him, but Katsue was laughing throatily and just barely managing to keep her limbs under her own control.

"No!" she laughed, gray eyes dancing as her dainty hands darted past his defense. He leaped backwards, sitting down flat on his ass, as an odd sensation rippled through his body after she wiggled her fingers against his arm pits. Scowling, he stared at her surprised expression for a moment. Then, as if she had discovered all the secrets of the universe, Katsue's eyes grew big and wide as she cackled.

"I'm ripping that damned thing off," he growled as she sat up on her hands and knees. He watched her passively as she crawled towards him, eyes half lidded mysteriously and a seductive smile on her full lips. His eyes strayed from her face though and towards the expanse of luscious cleavage that was threatening to spill over the top of her bodice. He felt his cock throb in response, especially as she started to crawl over his legs.

"You will not tear a single seam," Katsue purred, the smooth skin of her legs rubbing provocatively along his as she rose onto her knees and straddled him. He snarled at her in response, lurching forward to grip the top of her teddy in preparation of ripping it straight down the middle.

Her fingers went for his armpits again, and he immediately abandoned his assault to squirm away from her touch. Yellow eyes flashing dangerously, he snarled at her as he opted to bury his hands in her hair instead. "What the hell are you doing?" his voice was low, deep, threatening as he gripped her head in his hands.

She was still looking at him like a seductress, though, even as she barely managed to suppress a giggle. "Taking care of my poor neglected man," she whispered huskily.

Scowling, Zaraki watched curiously as her long fingers ran down the expanse of his chest. Before he even realized what her intentions were, she grasped his heavy erection in on smooth hand and gave him a long, firm stroke. "Gods damn it," he rumbled and tilted her head up towards his, his rough mouth claiming hers in hungry kiss. "I'm going to fuck you—"

"Till I scream?" she gasped against his lips, all while her hand ran along his shaft in torturously slow pulls. "No," she smiled and dodged another of his rough kisses by turning her face away from his. He contented himself by biting down on her earlobe, even as she rumbled with a laugh. "Not tonight, love. Tonight, you're _mine_ to fuck until you _roar_."

He shuddered even as he glared and tried to dislodge her from his lap. She simply abandoned his aching cock long enough to wiggle her fingers at his arm pits again, and have him squirming uncomfortably. "Quit that," he rumbled even as her hands went right back to his manhood. He went momentarily blind with pure pleasure as she gripped him firmly, her hands squeezing him mercilessly tight as she yanked at his flesh. When his vision cleared, he was appalled to find that he had leaned back on his hands for support while he gyrated his hips to her soft hands. He cursed, vehemently.

"Someone doesn't like being tickled," she laughed softly, her breasts bouncing as she did. His eyes locked back on those perfect swells of flesh as he frowned at her.

"I can give myself a damn hand job whenever I want, Katsue," he growled threateningly, his yellow eyes narrowing as he watched her chest rise and fall with her breath. Her arms had pushed her breasts together again while she used both her hands to touch him, and he was finding it incredibly hard to think because of it.

She quirked an eyebrow, still smiling evilly. She flicked a thumb over the head of his cock, and his hips bucked automatically. Swearing, Zaraki could only watch as she worked him over. "But this isn't your hand touching you…here…" she purred and lowered a hand to cup his aching bollocks. He gritted his teeth as she squeezed, her other hand give him a firm stroke as she did. "I'm better at it, admit it."

He grunted absently.

"Your abdomen is growing tight," she smiled at him. He cursed again as he realized she was right—he hadn't even noticed that his body was starting to crank itself into over drive with the threat of an orgasm. Her hands stroked him faster, harder, squeezed him tighter and tighter until he was on the very verge of groaning and releasing right into her hand—

"Nah-ah-ah," she laughed quietly and her hands stilled. His eyes shot open to stare at her hands on his cock in complete and utter amazement as his orgasm abated just as quickly as it had been coming. Her small hands were gripping him tightly just under the swollen head.

"The hell did you do?" he rasped.

She only replied with that annoying smile as she leaned forward to kiss him. Her lips were soft, gentle, and aggravatingly in control of the kiss. He was about to throw her onto her back and burry his shaft into her body when she finally pulled away, her mouth trailing down his neck in the same ways that he enjoyed doing with her. "No coming yet," she whispered against his the racing pulse in his neck, before she nipped at his skin.

He could only rumble in annoyance as she kissed, bit, and licked further down his body. When she got to his ripped stomach, she scooted down his thighs and pushed against his shoulder with one hand. Frowning, Zaraki collapsed backwards onto the bed of blankets and pillows, his head still held up to watch her journey downwards. Down…down…down…

His heart was pounding harder in his chest with every centimeter closer her mouth came to his aching need. Only once before had he ever let a woman's mouth come that close to his pride, and never while he was laid flat out on his back like a weakling. _He_ had been the one to initiate it; _he_ had been that one that pushed the whore to her knees in a dark alley in Rukongai. He had been the one that was disgusted with the lack of control the situation gave him, and walked off shoving his dick back into his hakama.

And oh dear sweet mother of zanpakutou—Katsue's lips were brushing against the soft skin of his inner thigh. Her other hand was stroking him again, gently. And then her tongue was licking at his sweat-slicked skin, and he couldn't help but arch his hips towards her as she finally…

"Oh, gods," he groaned and threw his head back as her tongue ran in an evil lick up the length of his cock. Her lips were wrapping around him, her mouth soft and hot and velvety smooth. Shuddering in utter delight, he buried his hands back in the thick waves of her hair. He could feel her tongue writhing against his sensitive flesh, could feel the friction of her lips locked in a tight seal around his shaft. His hips bucked as her teeth grazed him ever so slightly, and he couldn't help grinning up to the ceiling.

Katsue could suck his cock any damn time she felt like, he decided right then and there as his woman simply went to town on him. She was using her hand to stroke what parts of him she couldn't fit in her mouth, and he was pretty damn sure she was drawing in as much as she could with each bob of her head. He struggled to lift his head on his un-cooperating neck to watch, and nearly blacked out at the sight of her full pink lips wrapped around him.

"Katsue," he groaned and thrust into her mouth, earning him a hard pinch on his thighs from her free hand. He let out a stressed moan and fought to stay still, opting to squirm his legs instead. His stomach was clenching again, his loins burning and screaming for sweet release as she flexed her jaw around him. "Shit," he swore as his hips bucked reflexively, bringing him right back to the edge faster than her strong grip had.

And just as he was about to let loose, she stopped. Her hand was gripping his head in that bizarre way again as he let out a bellow of frustration and she grinned at him. "Not. Yet," she insisted.

"Come here!" he barked angrily at her and sat up in a rush, his arms going out to try and wrap possessively around her.

She tickled him again, and he let out another angry bellow as he tried to squirm away. "You," she spoke firmly, confidently as she straddled his waist again and gripped his shoulders in her strong hands. "Need to just sit there."

"Fuck that—"

"Relax," she purred and ground against his cock. "Will you feel better if I let you rip off my panties?"

Before the last syllable was out of her cruel mouth, his massive hands tore the frail lace from her hips. He snarled as he gripped her waist firmly and prepared to flip her over, only to receive _another_ tickle.

"Really," she laughed as he flung himself back flat on his back in utter frustration. "I would have expected you to guard your pits by now."

"I hate you," he groaned pathetically on the verge of surrender.

But then she was grinding against him, the bare flesh between her legs burning hot and soaking wet. His body responded immediately and he was sitting up again, his thick muscled arms wrapping possessively around her body as he bit down roughly on her neck. This time it was him that got a sharp groan out of her. This time, he was able to buck and grind and thrust against her slick wetness without any restraint. And when he was about to roll them both over so that he could take her properly, she thrust her own body down onto his cock.

He barked out in surprised pleasure as he suddenly found himself sheathed down to the hilt in her searing core. She was tight—so blissfully, agonizingly tight. And he was swollen, hard, and heavy, and _so_ ready to just blow up as fast as he possibly could. But she was on top. Holy hell.

Now _that_ had never happened in his hundreds of long years of life.

He wasn't quite sure if he liked it.

"Let me put you on your back," he growled in her ear before sucking her lobe into his mouth. She was panting and breathless as she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding his mouth against her even as she rose on his cock, only to slam herself back down. They both moaned—loudly. "Katsue…" he let the begging tone in his voice trail off into a sharp snarl as he bucked up into her, bouncing her on his cock.

"No," she gasped in his ear. "It's _my_ turn to take care of you," she panted. "So just sit back, and relax!" and with a surge of strength she had him flat on his back again, her hands braced on his broad shoulders as she rode him ruthlessly.

He contented himself by gripping her hips in his strong hands and pulling her down onto his cock firmly, while his hips bucked roughly up to meet her. Each impact of their bodies meeting knocked both their breaths out of their lungs in loud groans and moans. His pelvis met hers in wet slaps of flesh meeting flesh, and every bounce up and down sent fire racing through his veins. Snarling, he cursed her between gritted teeth and finally managed to move fast enough to tear the evil cloth she wore right off of her.

She glared down at him indignantly but didn't slow down as he threw the stupid teddy away. Instead his eyes were riveted onto her bouncing breasts and taught stomach, her flush skin and the delicious sight of the V between her legs riding up and down on his throbbing erection. He grinned, yellow eyes burning as he looked back up to her, and watched as her eyes flashed red.

"Much better," he moaned at the pain of her nails biting into the thick cords of muscle in his shoulders. "Much, much, much better." His hands were sliding roughly on her hips, until he gripped her ass tightly in both of his hands.

"Kenpachi," she gasped and he rumbled in response. He could feel the growing change in her body all around his cock. She was getting gradually tighter, her fast thrusts down onto his cock and tight withdrawals off of it growing sloppier. Her breath was coming in shorter, raspier gasps. He moans of pleasure getting louder.

And he wasn't much better. He was snarling and growling and bucking without any rhyme or reason. All he was aware of was the electric tingle of ecstasy racing through his every nerve, and she was the source of it all. His body was on fire. His manhood was screaming with the urge for relief. She had taunted and teased him all night. Had brought him close to the brink of coming twice and abandoned him when he _really_ needed it.

He should push her off and give her some of her own medicine. He should flip her over on her back and claim her like the man he was—she was _his. _His to do with as he pleased. His to lose himself blindly in the throws of sex with. His to screw until _she_ screamed his name.

Tonight, though, it was all bass ackwards.

She brought him to release first—the pleasure of the moment exploding through every fiber of his being as he pounded up ruthlessly into the tight embrace of her womb. She was the one riding him into oblivion. She was the one grinning victoriously down at him as he absolutely _roared_ until the rafters shook. And then she was joining him, finding her own release with his as she screamed along with him. They were crashing together, blind to the world, only aware of the ecstasy they could find with each other.

When it was all over, Zaraki lay panting among the tangles of their sheets and blankets. Katsue was collapsed on top of him, her lean body draped over his and her legs entwined in his legs. They were hot, covered in sweat, and completely and utterly spent. He didn't want to move, didn't feel like gently lifting her from his satiated cock. Didn't even feel like rolling them over so that he was finally the one on top. He just lay there, trying to catch his breath as Katsue did the same.

"I'm not going to work tomorrow," she finally gasped, her voice hoarse.

"Good," he rumbled in response. He finally mustered enough energy to simply wrap his arms possessively around her, his hands smoothing her long hair along her back.

"And neither are you," she challenged him, their eyes locking as she waited for him to argue back.

"Okay," he replied simply. His lips curled into a feral grin as he watched her yawn—loudly. "You know you're going to pay for this."

"Gods," she shivered, her gray eyes drooping closed as she settled in against his chest again, "I hope so."

He rumbled with content laughter as he simply held her against him, their chests pressed together as their hearts raced to calm down. He kissed the top of her head as she passed out cold, a soft snore escaping her. Purring, Zaraki gently rolled over on to his side so he could better tuck her against him. It wasn't the same as being on top, but he could settle for this much. "Mine," he rumbled in her ear, before settling in for a deep sleep himself.

* * *

This chapter was more than TWICE as long as the last, and is the LONGEST chapter yet. Hopefully that can make up for my insolence at not publishing this sooner. ; ;

Zaraki had a life-altering experience though, wouldn't you say? Hoo. *fans herself* Hot.


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